


A Light in the Darkness

by keirajo



Series: The Decepticon Emperor and His Autobot Lover [6]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Action/Adventure, Character Death, Destruction, Devotion, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Love, M/M, Multi, Romance, Spark-bonding, War, other tags maybe later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-08-22 07:22:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16593410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keirajo/pseuds/keirajo
Summary: Hot Rod goes looking for the lost and abandoned soldiers on the outer frontier worlds.  Galvatron goes to war.   Starscream finally goes through with an attack on Cybertron.Lines are drawn and blurred.   Words are said.   Stances are taken.   A child grows up.And nothing will ever be the same again................





	1. Broken Things Can Often Be Mended

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you're all caught up on the previous works............then you might see where this whole epic is going. I hope you all will enjoy it! :)

**_ Chapter One:   Broken Things Can Often Be Mended _ **

 

            Hot Rod moaned like he was about to overload, which _never_ surprised Galavtron—the flame-colored mech was _always_ like this in his arms.  Especially the moment he plugged into the open-and-waiting data-ports.   But the request tonight had been somewhat odd and strangely………….something of an **_order_** from his little Prime.   It had gone something like _this_ ……………

 

_“It’s the last night together we’re going to have for a while, but I **do** need to sleep—so give me the best frag ever for the next couple hours,” Hot Rod said, reaching up to touch the sides of Galvatron’s face.   “Then I gotta go back to my own berth at the embassy and get enough recharge for tomorrow.”_

_“You will not stay in my berth tonight, Prime?”  Galvatron asked in surprise.   Reaching up a servo to grab the flame-colored mech’s chin roughly, that **special** touch of roughness he reserved **only** for his precious little Prime._

_“I’m ‘fraid not.  If I stay in your berth, I’ll want to **frag all night** —and then I won’t get a proper recharge before heading out tomorrow,” Hot Rod sighed, snuggling closely against the powerful war machine’s chest.  He listened to the familiar spin of Galvatron’s Spark and light rumble of the engines at a form of downshift.   “Just…………gimme a good, hard frag—that way I can still feel you in me for the next week or so.”_

 

            And now that he was sweeping through Hot Rod’s program and systems, combing through open and active processes, brushing inactive protocols…………he found a great sense of anticipation in the younger mech’s systems.   It had been a long— ** _long_** time since he felt such positive determination from his little Prime.

            “ _Galvatrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrooooooooooooonnnnnnnn_ ………” Hot Rod moaned, arching against him, spoiler and shoulders sinking into the so very soft blankets beneath him.   “ _That one_ ……….that one **_there_** ………… ** _that_** protocol………” he whispered, desperately.   “Go back to it………….” he panted.

            “ _Eh_ , **_this one_**?”  Galvatron chortled, hovering his program ghost over the overload protocols.   “Not yet, my Prime—you must hang in there to _earn_ having me activate _those protocols_ for you!”   The Decepticon Leader taunted. 

            But he made his sweep through the familiar and welcoming systems very thorough and shut down pretty much all **_unnecessary_** processes and programs—Hot Rod was clearly far too careless with his own systems.  He left way too many unnecessary protocols and functions running when they _did not need to_.   It was no wonder the little Prime became such a messy bundle of emotions and energy—if he just ran his systems much more efficiently, he probably _wouldn’t_ be in such a messy flurry all the time.

            “No, **_please_** ………….. _do it_ ………….. _let me_ ………….. _I wanna_ …………” Hot Rod sobbed, achingly, bolting upright to grab the grey-and-purple mech around the neck and yanked the bulkier mech down atop his own, more slender frame.

            “Now tell me, how will you _properly_ earn that reward, Prime?   _Do not be foolish_ , those protocols will trip themselves open once we actually get to the interfacing portion of our evening,” Galvatron laughed at him, planting his servos in the berth to the sides of the flame-colored mech and pushed himself back up to his commanding position over the younger mech’s frame.    “Instead of all that, how about I do **_this_**?”   He teased, bringing his program ghost’s master command codes to bear upon the system and dampened every sensor in the flame-colored mech’s frame.

            Hot Rod’s lust suddenly dimmed _massively_ and he gave a staggered whimper, reaching up for Galvatron.  “You’re _not fair_ ………… ** _you’re the Spawn of the Pit_**!”  He cried, his servos collapsing to his sides and he grabbed at the soft blankets desperately.

            “I take that as a high compliment, my Prime!”  Galvatron said, roaring with laughter.   “ _You_ said you want to feel me for the next week—so, I must ensure that you focus _only_ on me fragging you into offlining.   I am merely shutting down all your unnecessary protocols, so that you may focus _only upon your Emperor_.”

            “You really **_are_** the Spawn of the Pit, _dammit_!   Stop dampening my interface protocols—I **_want_** to be horny and enjoy doing this with you!”  Hot Rod growled squirming as much as he could with all of his systems sublimated by the Decepticon Leader.

            Galvatron leaned forwards and gently placed the heel of his hand on Hot Rod’s forehead.  He pushed gently, which tilted the small head back into the plushness of the mattress, and stared into the fiercely glowing blue optics, a devious grin on his faceplate.   “You wanted to feel **_only me_** , correct?   And so, when we are done in the next couple hours………….you will feel my mark upon your systems and programs for quite some time—as well as the ache in your valve to remind you of how your body craves to devour my spike,” the grey-and-purple mech said in a deep and rumbling voice.

            “ _I love you………….. **you utterly crazy bastard**_ ,” Hot Rod chuckled, reaching up one servo to lay it over Galvatron’s on his forehead.  “ _Make me yours, my Emperor_ ,” he purred, all sweetness and seduction suddenly in his vocalizer and frame.

            “ _That_ is more like it, my little Prime,” the Decepticon Leader laughed, making a final sweep of the smaller mech’s systems and ensuring the shutdown of unnecessary programs and protocols.   Then he pulled back his program ghost and swept an arm through the data-interface cables between them, letting them pull and snap back into his hips before closing his paneling.   He reached down with a sense of gentleness and thumbed shut Hot Rod’s data-interface hip-ports.   “ _Open for me_ , Hot Rod—show me the trapped desire pooling between your legs…………” the powerful mech purred, swiping a couple of clawed fingers over the valve panel of his little lover.

            Being called by his designation made the flame-colored mech’s engines upshift sharply, even as his Spark spun wildly in his chest.   He had great and intense longing ricocheting all through his frame, building up charge like there was no tomorrow.   He’d miss Galvatron terribly while he was gone.   Galvatron may not have the same love and attachment that Hot Rod had, but it was clear that the powerful war machine treasured him beyond anything else, except for their offspring.   Cyclonus, although jealous—admitted that Hot Rod held a place in Galvatron’s Spark that no other did………..and it was ironic, as Hot Rod was just as equally jealous of Cyclonus and all that he always did for Galvatron, as well.   And in moments like _this_ —the young, flame-colored mech could see how much he meant to the Decepticon Leader.   He was rough, but very careful not to damage…………..he teased but did not take only his own pleasure.   Galvatron _cared_ about the mech beneath him right now—in his own, odd, _Galvatron-ish_ way.

            And so………….Hot Rod opened his interface panels and clutched desperately at the mech he loved when the thick spike went up into his valve and fired up every sensor within his array with its powerful charge and incredible size.   He’d **_definitely_** remember this for the next couple weeks—all he could feel was **_Galvatron_** , everywhere inside of him—the traces of his lover and lord’s program deep within his systems, as well as the very physical object pushing so deeply into him, practically splitting him open.   He heard his own voice crying and begging for more, all the way up until the overload consumed him and he went completely offline beneath the powerful mech he loved with everything that he was.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            “ _Sky Lynx_!   _Ah_ , thanks so much for accepting my request!”  Hot Rod said after the sentient Autobot shuttle-mech settled down on the landing pad of the embassy and could be approached safely.

            “It is no problem, Hot Rod.  And good morning to you,” Sky Lynx greeted, formally, choosing to remain in his shuttle mode for the moment.  His deep voice rumbled in the still air of Chaar.   “ _Ah_ , the one in the sling must be your newborn—what is her name again?”   The old Autobot inquired, training his external viewing sensors on the small group on the platform.

            “It’s Stormbreaker, and she **_loves_** to talk—so you’ll probably hear her babbling constantly this whole trip,” Hot Rod laughed, warmly.   Though, right now she was tucked in the sling, had just been fueled and was sleeping through _all of this_.   It was impressive how she could sleep through everything—she _definitely_ got that from Galvatron!   “But she’s a sleepy little brat right now, so you’ll have to hear her voice later.”

            “Understood.   Good morning, Novablaze—how are you?”  Sky Lynx asked, training his external sensors on the smallest mech of the group.

            “I’m **_excited_**!   Can’t wait to see new planets!”  Novablaze gushed with happiness, jumping up and down on his pedes.

            “And you must be Sixshot—the mercenary.   Good morning to you, as well,” the shuttle-mech said politely, training his sensors onto the large Decepticon standing behind Hot Rod.   “Good morning to you, Soundwave.”   Sixshot gave a polite dip of his head, while Soundwave bowed his shoulders respectfully.   “If we are all ready to go, gentleman……..and young lady……..then please come aboard to greet your fellow voyagers.”

            Hot Rod was apprehensive at this next part—he _wished_ that it would be Ultra Magnus waiting there for them in Sky Lynx’s bridge area.   But his former right-hand mech was far too busy to come on a trip with an undefined endpoint.   He hadn’t informed Hot Rod as to who was coming either, but the flame-colored mech had a feeling it would likely be Autobots that made him _anxious_.   He just couldn’t _do that_ anymore……….Mindwipe had been constantly working with him, on his problems and his anxiety—and it always upset Galvatron when he was a mess.   So, Hot Rod had firmly resolved to start getting a lot better at handling his anxiety.

            He _definitely_ wasn’t prepared for who was there whatsoever.   As soon as Hot Rod’s optics alighted upon the all-too-familiar green-and-yellow mech and the pink-and-white femme………his Spark spun so slowly he thought it might go still and fade out with ache and sadness.

            “ _Spring_!   _‘Cee_!”  Novablaze squealed with joy, running over to the two Autobots excitedly.  He jumped up and down for attention until Arcee picked him up for a hug and Springer reached over to rub the mechling’s helm fondly.

            This voyage would be _very long_ , indeed.  Long and **_quiet_** , probably.   Hot Rod turned away and walked back out into the corridor, sinking down into a near-fetal position on his aft against the wall.   Why **_them_**?  Of _any_ or **_every_** Autobot that could possibly have come……….why’d it have to be Springer and Arcee?   Soundwave joined him in the hallway, walking around to the other side of the flame-colored mech, so he didn’t block the doorway and sat down next to him.

            “This arrangement makes you unhappy?”  Soundwave asked in a very quiet version of his deeply echoing voice.

            “Of any of the Autobots—it just **_had_** to be the ones who think I made the worst decision ever to fall in love with Galvatron…………” Hot Rod murmured, bringing his servos gently around Stormbreaker’s sleeping frame in the sling and bringing his head down sadly.  

            Then he heard voices raised in volume back in the main control room.  Springer was clearly arguing with…………Sixshot.

            “ _C’mon_ ………..just let me go out and talk with the kid.   I know it’s been rough, but we……..” Springer’s familiar voice was saying, with his usual biting undertones.

            “Honestly, I was _ordered by Galvatron_ to make sure he doesn’t stress out—and if avoiding you two Autobots are what’s needed for that, then I will make sure you two don’t come in contact with him,” Sixshot responded, his deep voice firm and commanding.  Hot Rod inferred that he must be standing in front of the door, preventing Springer from exiting from it.

            All of the sudden a massive thud hit the top of Sky Lynx’s shuttle form and a powerful EM field washed over the entire area.

            “ ** _Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimmmmmmmmmmeeeeeeeeeeee_**!!!!!”   Galvatron roared in fury.   “I will tear open this shuttle and _crush_ the ones making you cry!   You have ten seconds to respond to me before I blow a hole in the top of it!”

            “He’s seriously charging up his nova cannon, everyone!   _Please_ make him cease and desist!”  Sky Lynx snapped over his intercom systems on his interior.

            Hot Rod hastily glyph-sent a message to his powerful lover.

 

**|I’m fine, Galvatron.  I’m sorry.|**

 

            “There is no _‘sorry’_ about it, Prime!   I will **_not_** have you going off on this voyage that you have been so excited about………….mired in tears and anxiety!”  Galvatron snarled, still charging up his nova cannon and aiming it at his pedes, where he was standing atop Sky Lynx’s shuttle form—he’d made a pretty good dent when he landed, which the shuttle-mech was already infuriated over.   “ _Whoever_ _made my Prime cry_ ………….get out here **_right now_** , so that I may rip out your Spark and feed it back to you through your mouth!”

            The flame-colored mech knew Galvatron was completely serious with his threat.   He didn’t know how he could de-escalate this situation…………so he glyph-sent another message to the powerful Emperor of the Decepticons.

 

**|Galvatron!   Please!   I’m so sorry!   Don’t do this, okay?|**

 

            “He’s absolutely _nuts_!”  Springer gasped, looking at Arcee and then back at Sixshot.   “Does he really think that anyone’s going accede to that demand?!”

            “Lord Galvatron is _quite serious_ about things—especially when it comes to the young Prime,” Sixshot answered, chuckling softly.   He stepped aside when Hot Rod came through the door with Soundwave.   “Prime, what are you going to do?”   The Decepticon soldier asked, looking down at the flame-colored mech.   Hot Rod shrugged and kept moving towards the front of the room.

            “Sky Lynx, I’m sorry if he hurt you.   I’m _trying_ to get him to calm down, but he’s refusing to take my glyph-messages seriously,” Hot Rod said, walking over to a console and screen and patting the console lightly as he internally sent another message to the mech he loved.

 

**|Galvatron.   I just………….emotionally overreacted to who got sent.   Please.   I’ll work it out with them and we’ll go.   It’s okay.  I promise it really is okay.|**

 

            “You are certain, Prime?   Because I will **_not_** have you upset when you have finally started to rediscover your fire!!!”   Galvatron roared, his voice still amazingly able to be heard within Sky Lynx’s interior.

            Hot Rod kept glyph-sending, because he didn’t want to raise his voice loud enough to be heard through Sky Lynx’s frame—and quite possibly wake Stormbreaker up.  Though **_how_** she could sleep with Galvatron’s powerful field blanketing the area—that was beyond impressive.

 

**|Springer and Arcee were sent—the friends who didn’t want to come and see me before.   I’ll………I’ll talk it out with them.  I promise.|**

 

            “If you are _certain_ you will be all right, my little Prime—then I will **_allow_** you to go,” Galvatron’s deep, booming voice announced.

 

**|I’m good.  I’ll be good.  I still want to find the lost and lonely Transformers out there.  I really do.|**

 

            “ _Very well_.  Have a safe voyage.  And if you **_do_** need me, my precious Prime—you need only send me a message and I will arrive at my swiftest of speeds to wherever you may be in the universe,” Galvatron’s voice said commandingly.  Then a vibration went through Sky Lynx’s frame and the shuttle-mech incycled and exvented quickly in relief.

            “ _What a **psychopath**_ ,” Springer groaned, facepalming himself.

            “He is strangely devoted to you, Hot Rod,” Arcee said, still holding Novablaze.

            “ _’Course!_    Sire loves cari lots!”   Novablaze chirped, hugging the pink-and-white femme’s neck.

            “Springer……….Arcee…………before we go.  I _need_ to say something.   And you need to be honest with me and with yourselves,” Hot Rod said, turning to the two Autobots who used to call themselves his friends.   “ _Fact one_ :  I **_love_** Galvatron.  Nothing’s changing that.  Accept it, or don’t and go home.  _Fact two_ :   I’m going out to look for the ones of our kind that are lost and hurting out on the frontier.   If you’re not here to help me, then go home.   _Fact three_ :  This is something I very much want to do and if you plan to stop me from saving Decepticons and try to make me save only Autobots— ** _then you can go home right now_**.”

            Then Hot Rod rounded on them, his expression serious and commanding—just as when he had been Rodimus Prime.

            “We Autobots have had this peace with the Decepticons for about seven years now.   There is _no war_ anymore—and I will not abandon any Transformer in need of help or companionship in a universe that may seem unfavorable to them,” the flame-colored mech said, firmly.   “I _can’t_ feasibly save them all right away.  But I _can_ find the ones I know of—which is just one, so far, but Sixshot knows of more worlds that may have others—and I can offer them a way home, whether to Chaar or to Cybertron.”

            Soundwave and Sixshot applauded, which made Hot Rod smile.  At least _someone_ here on this ship was supportive of him.  **_Two someones_**.

            “And you brought your younglings…….. _why_?”  Springer said, his voice harsh as he folded his arms across his chest.

            “Storm _can’t_ be weaned yet and it would be unfair to take one and not the other.  Besides, I want to show Novablaze how to help people,” Hot Rod answered, gazing unwaveringly at his old friend.   “My little Nova is about to be six years old soon………he is brave and strong and needs to learn about life beyond Chaar.   Beyond Cybertron and Earth.   Because one day………he will be like his sire and administrate a grand empire.”

            “Why in the name of Primus are you doing _this_ —helping Galvatron build an empire?”  Arcee said, her voice filled with a little bit of anguish.

            “Why was I helping _Cybertron_ rebuild?   It’s the exact same reason.   Galvatron _needs_ to be a leader—and his personality simply leans this way.   He’s _changing_ and I’m helping him become his best, which is what he helped me to do when I held the Matrix,” the young, flame-colored mech explained.   “Galvatron’s _not_ hurting anything and he’s stuck with the accords—he fights with the Trylians when they invade Chaar’s planetary system and he annexes the worlds in the system with big pomp and circumstance.   _None of it compromises the accords_.  None of it interferes with Galactic Alliance members or territory.   And yet…………” he trailed off.

            “Go on,” Sixshot said, supportively.

            “ _The Autobots_ keep pushing the boundaries of the accords— _not_ the Decepticons.   I made peace for everyone and the Autobots keep believing the Decepticons are nothing but a force of evil,” Hot Rod sighed.  “We’re all………… _just Cybertronians_ —or descended from them,” he added, gently stroking the bundle in the sling over his chestplate.   “ ** _This hatred has to stop_**.   It’s the only way we can keep war from breaking out again.”

            “Yeah, and what about Starscream?”  Springer snapped.  “ _He’s_ a Decepticon and he’s pretty happy at making war with _everyone_.”

            “He’s **_not_** a Decepticon anymore—you’ve heard him announce it.   And he hasn’t waged war with just the Autobots, but with the Decepticons, too!  His army is called the ‘ _Destrons’_ —Galvatron rejected him from the Decepticons long ago.  Starscream’s even created his own brand—as much a mockery of both our brands as he could make of it,” Hot Rod snapped back.  It was true, Starscream fused a symbol from both the Autobots and Decepticons to create his Destron brand—it was a mockery of everything the Transformers had come from.   “ ** _Primus_**.   _Go home_ , Springer.  If you don’t want to be here and all you want to do is argue with me about things—then **_just go home_**.”

            “Hot Rod………..listen to what you’re saying,” Arcee said, calmly.

            “I _know_ what I’m saying!   I know **_exactly_** what I’m saying!   You two lied to me and used Ultra Magnus’ name in your lie!   Why are you even here if you don’t even like me or care about me anymore!   **_Primus_**!!!”  Hot Rod sobbed, pulling back from everyone and running into a wall behind him.   This _wasn’t_ talking things out right and in a few moments Galvatron would feel his distress again and come thundering back here to make more threats………..which he might actually carry out this time.

            “ _Cari_!   _Cari_!”  Novablaze cried, squirming in Arcee’s arms to be put down so he could run over to his beloved carrier.   Arcee set him down and the mechling ran over to wrap his arms around Hot Rod’s upper legs.

            “Roddy.  Look………about that……” Springer began, his voice softening immensely.   “We _do_ still care about you.  We’re worried about you living on Chaar…………away from the Autobots and everything.”

            “ _Don’t lie_.  Don’t lie to me anymore.   _Clearly_ you can see that Galvatron really cares about me—and our younglings.   Just…………stop trying to wedge a chasm between our factions.   It’s **_not_** Autobots versus Decepticons, not anymore,” Hot Rod said, trying to rein in his field and emotions.  He knelt down to hug Novablaze, because focusing on his youngling would help to calm him down.

            “Have you _ever_ come to Chaar to look around?   To see everything the Prime helped the Decepticons to build there?”  Sixshot said, glancing over at Springer.   “There are habitation blocks now—the Decepticons are no longer sleeping in the dirt.   A new entertainment district and a race track are being built—they’re _supposed_ to be done by the next solar rotation.   Decepticons are engaging in activities they never had a chance to indulge in because of the war—but that you Autobots always played around with regardless of the fact that we were at war.   I’d come back from the Outer Edges and saw what had been done—even though I was originally skeptical to hear the Decepticons were living on on the waste-world of Chaar.   It was _nice_ to have a home to come back to…………the war was long, many of us on the frontier were tired and worn and though we still wear brands, most of us stopped fighting the other a long time ago.  Even the most battle-hardened soldiers become tired one day.”

            Soundwave, who rarely spoke unless spoken to, added his own thoughts to the old Decepticon warrior’s.  “There is _no difference_ between Autobot and Decepticon—except for the differences one wants to see.   Clinging to the war, as the constant any of us ever knew, is futile and stagnates our growth,” the communications officer said, softly, in his deep and echoing voice.   “We still wear our brands because we wish _camaraderie_ , not conflict,” he added, quietly.  “Hot Rod has _never_ removed his brand, he still believes in the mark he chose—yet it has never stopped him from making the universe better for the Decepticons, as well as the Autobots.   And with his subtle guidance and his love for our Lord Galvatron—the young Prime has made not just Chaar better, but has made Lord Galvatron better as well.   Are you willing to believe that love cannot change another?”  He asked, looking directly at Arcee and Springer.

            “Gentlemen and our two ladies—might I inquire as to whether we actually **_are_** going anywhere or not?”  Sky Lynx said, abruptly.   “Galvatron is still standing a couple kilometers away and I swear his optics are boring holes in my armour-plating!”

            “ _Jeeze_ ………..and he complains about me being overprotective of Storm,” Hot Rod mumbled, but he laughed softly.   “Your sire is a stubborn idiot, you know that, Nova?”  He chuckled, pressing his forehead down against the mechling’s.

            “But he’s still awesome, right?”  Novablaze responded, giggling with his carrier’s laughter.

            “ _Yes_.   Yes, he is,” the flame-colored mech responded.   “Sky Lynx, take off with the initial coordinates I gave you, since we know exactly where Slipstream is—we will see if she wants to come home first………..when we’re in the area, Soundwave I’d like you to send message pings out on the old frequencies, as well as listen for any using the frequencies.   Sixshot and Soundwave, watch over Nova for a little bit—you guys go explore around Sky Lynx and find the common room and habitation quarters.   Arcee and Springer—you two stay here, we need to have a **_grownup talk_**.”

            “Shall I simply tune you all out, then?”  Sky Lynx chuckled as he lifted off and blasted through the thin atmosphere of Chaar.

            “It would be appreciated,” Hot Rod responded with a smile.  Then light classical music from Earth began to play through the shuttle-mech’s internal speakers—background music to those aboard, but more or less like the Autobot was listening to music with a pair of headphones and tuning out everything around him.  “Look……..Galvatron’s right and I need to stop crying and stressing out over what I _can’t_ control.   So, there are ground rules to this voyage and you two need to listen to them.   We’re **_saving Cybertronians_** , we don’t care what brand they’re wearing—if they need our help to come home, that’s what we’re there to do.   That’s why you two came along—I don’t care why you thought you came along, what I’ve just said is the true reason behind all that.”

            “It’s understood, Hot Rod…………but we _did_ come along to try and make it up with you—what we did, hurting your feelings the way we did,” Arcee said, softly, pressing her servos together.

            “ _Why_ did you lie?   That’s so………… _stupid_.   But it’s over and done with.  You guys can’t stand Decepticons—well, you’d better get used to hanging around them, because I have a feeling that’s the majority of whom we’re going to find, you know,” Hot Rod snapped, softly.   “Look you two…….I _love_ Galvatron and the reason I got attached to him is _because of you guys_.   And the other Autobots a little bit, too.   For a while, I thought we were friends and that you _liked me_ ………we all hung out together and……….I **_really_** wanted to be with you both.   Forever, actually.  **_I liked you guys so much_**.”

            “ _Roddy_ ………..” Springer murmured.

            “And I kept hoping Ultra Magnus or Optimus Prime would teach me—how to become a better Autobot.   But they were _so busy_ and one day, to keep me out of trouble and to stop bothering them—they assigned me to protect the Witwickys,” Hot Rod said, firmly.   “That was when……..you two started pushing me away, too……..spending more time with each other and………..where was I at in this universe now?   At the start, Spike said there was no need for me to be there, Daniel was too little and nobody really bothered with them.   _They_ didn’t want me at first either.   I didn’t belong anywhere……..I didn’t belong to anyone.   One day, Carly came outside to talk with me—I’d just been lying on their front lawn all day, staring up at the sky…………and that was the day Daniel became attached to me.   He’d wail his head off if I wasn’t around.  After that, even though he was still really little—Spike realized his infant son had made a lifelong friend and I was accepted there.   It filled in that hole in my Spark— _the loneliness_ —at least a little bit of it.”

            Stormbreaker shifted in the sling against his chest and Hot Rod paused to check on her.  She was still in recharge, so he looked back up and continued.

            “But I _still_ missed being with you guys and even though I tried to attach to you both……….at some point I realized you two were bonded to _each other_ and simply couldn’t fit me in anymore.   I couldn’t do anything about that.   Years passed, things happened and then I fought with Galvatron inside of Unicron,” the flame-colored mech said, sadness tinging his vocalizer’s sounds.   “When I was about ready to just give up and die—after trying to fight someone so much more powerful than I was……….the Matrix hanging about his neck _called out to me_.   I’d never heard anything so beautiful in my life as the voices of those who were gone, urging me to be strong and to seize my destiny.   Do you know…………. _I am the **only** Prime whose body they completely reformatted_, inside and out?   Because _they knew_ —the Matrix itself **_knew_**.   They saw Galvatron’s buried potential and my need for someone to help me become stronger…………they saw that **_together_** , Galvatron and I could end the war and forge something else for the Transformer race.”

            That was when Hot Rod noticed Arcee and Springer just staring at him, in complete and absolute shock.

            “But…………even after I became Autobot Leader—I got placed upon a pedestal and I still had no one to turn to.   Until one day, Galvatron and I were in battle……….and then we were transported to a deserted world.   I spent most of that time actually trying to provoke Galvatron into killing me, because if I could be of no use to anyone, _I just wanted to die_ —but I was too afraid to do it myself,” Hot Rod said with a deep sigh.   “And when I kinda enticed him into interfacing, he was so rough and violent—I thought…………for sure, _this would be the end_.   But when he sublimated my system, he saw my self-hatred and how badly I wanted to die.   _He couldn’t stand it_ ………..the mech destined to be his _‘perfect rival’_ wanted nothing more than to die.   He _fragged_ me, but he was intuitive and was not going to injure me so gravely that I’d perish.”   Then the flame-colored mech tossed his head back and laughed with fondness as he remembered those crazy times about seven years ago already.   “What a crazy weirdo—it was his way of showing appreciation for me and………..maybe what passes as fondness and love for a mech like him.   _Unicron_ took away his ability to feel those softer emotions—he simply **_can’t_** feel them.   So, he treats me with the closest emotions to that—possessiveness, passion and maybe a little bit of worship.   I’m a **_treasure_** to Galvatron………….he’s the first person who completely wants me in his life and _never_ pushes me away.   He gripes and complains and admonishes me…………..he’s rough in the berth and his sex-play with me, but I am **_never_** absent from his thoughts.   You just saw that.   Because we’re Spark-bonded, he can feel my emotional status and……….he knew I was upset simply seeing the two of you, because you lied to me and didn’t want to see me…………and suddenly here you were, what was I supposed to do?  _He came to my rescue_ , like the perfect lover and mate should do—just that he’s Galvatron and has to do it in a _Galvatron-ish_ way.   Yeah, I share him with Cyclonus and whatever random frags he likes to have, but I and the younglings have a _special_ place in his Spark.   **_Forever_**.   And really…………that’s _all I ever wanted_.   **_I wanted someone to want me_**.”

            “ _Hot Rod_ ………” Arcee whispered.

            “ _Roddy_ ………..” Springer murmured.

            “And the Decepticons really are no different than us………..Soundwave really likes music, it’s something he has in common with Blaster, he’s just not as chatty.   Cyclonus enjoys karaoke, would you believe that?  He and Scourge enjoy karaoke together whenever they have the free time and can commandeer Soundwave’s attention for the music.   Misfire, a guy who recently came in from the frontier—he tells jokes and he’s _really funny_!    But the war stole them from enjoying things like that because……………….they are descended from the military hardware line that the Quintessons created and it’s in their programming forever to be _‘soldiers first’_.   We Autobots, the consumer goods—we had more adaptability, but relaxing hobbies like that come easy to us, so we could fit it in while waging war.   It doesn’t matter that Vector Sigma took over all of that creation work from the Quintessons—the _base codes of our programming_ goes all the way back to the first military hardware models and consumer goods that were produced.”

            “So………..you’re saying that Galvatron’s running a militaristic empire, because that’s in their coding—they can’t view peace in the way that we do, but………….you’re trying to get them to relax as much as possible?”  Arcee asked, tilting her head at the flame-colored mech.

            “Yeah, I guess _that’s_ as good an explanation as anything,” Hot Rod answered, finally feeling like he could start to relax in the same room as his old Autobot friends.   “Autobots and Decepticons are fundamentally different—it’s in the coding and that _can’t be changed_ , but there’s no reason we both can’t find places together in this universe.”

            “No, _yeah_ ………I suppose there isn’t,” Springer murmured, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.  “You really like Galvatron, don’t you Roddy?”

            “ ** _A lot_**.  _With all of my Spark_ —he’s a wild monster with a sun shining inside him.   I want to see him become the Emperor he believes he already is,” Hot Rod answered, his voice serious and firm.

            “Then what can **_we_** do to help you out?”  Springer asked, looking over at the younger mech, seriously.

            “ _Believe in me_.   And next year, when we have the grand opening of the entertainment district and race track—come to Chaar for that,” Hot Rod chuckled, waggling a finger at his old friend.  “Then you can see that the Decepticons are _not_ all battle-hungry war machines.  Only _Galvatron_ is.”

            Springer chuckled softly and then laughed when Hot Rod began laughing, Arcee joined in with soft giggles.   Suddenly, it felt like old times—like the awkwardness between the three of them simply all melted away.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            “My lord, a straggler has come in from the Outer Edges,” Cyclonus reported as he walked into the throne room.  “Do you wish to see her, or shall I just send her over to Onslaught and Blast Off for administrative processes?”  The Decepticons’ Second-in-Command asked as he dipped his shoulders low before Galvatron’s throne.

            “ _Her_?   Did you just use the feminine pronoun?  Is she _actually_ a Decepticon?   Did we have femmes in the combat zones?”  Galvatron said, his interest piqued—but most likely only because he had spawn who was a femme and was unaware of any Decepticon with such a gender specification.

            “I acquired her service records from Onslaught before coming here—her designation is _‘Flamewar’_ and she is listed as an interrogation and espionage specialist,” the purple-and-grey lieutenant said, reading directly from the datapad in his hands.   “And, my lord……..we have several femmes with listed records in the Decepticon databanks.   Your Prime intends on rescuing one with the designation of _‘Slipstream’_.”

            “ _Oh_.   I see that I am sorely unaware of our lost troops, then.  By all means, show this femme in.  I may as well start to learn about the troops coming in from the frontier, rather than relying on my Prime to tell me all about them,” the Decepticon Leader responded with a devious little chuckle.

            “As you command, my lord,” Cyclonus said with another low dip of his shoulders and a servo braced on the center of his chestplate.  He walked out to the lobby area and asked the female Decepticon to follow him to the throne room.

            Galvatron apprised the femme when his loyal lieutenant brought her in.  The flames were  far-too-blatant on her frame, and she had colors of red and purple on her armour and derma.   The Emperor of the Decepticons found he had incredibly negative feelings deep inside him, upon seeing this femme, and he couldn’t necessarily explain them.   But it would be improper of an Emperor to turn away soldiers that were coming in from the frontier—Hot Rod would be sure to lecture him on that…………..especially considering the young former Prime had just left in search of the ones lost and alone on the frontier.

            “Welcome to Chaar,” Galvatron said, a polite nod of his head.

            “Thank you, Lord Galvatron,” Flamewar said, going to a bended knee and crossing an arm across her chest as she bowed low.  “I saw the broadcast of you and the Autobot on the Galactic Alliance channels and you both said to _return home_.  I had to ask where Chaar was, but I came home as soon as I could have.”

            “I will request that you address my Prime properly, Flamewar.  You will address him as **_Prime_** in my presence, if he prefers you to address him otherwise, you shall call him by his designation of _Hot Rod_ ,” Galvatron said, firmly.

            “ _Understood_ , my lord,” Flamewar said with a small grin.

            Galvatron really had _very strong negative feelings_ about this femme.

            “Very well.  Cyclonus will show you to the living area’s administrative offices.  You will report _all weapons and belongings_ for cataloguing to Onslaught and Blast Off.   They will see to it that you are given your own habitation suite,” the Leader of the Decepticons said, his deep voice commanding and firm.

            “Will…………my weapons be taken from me?”  The purple-and-red femme asked, raising her head and standing up slowly.

            “ _No_ , but they shall be catalogued and inventoried,” Galvatron said, firmly.  “This is merely in case issues arise and we must conduct an investigation—so, _this is your warning_.   All other Decepticons here have been here longer than you, so do not cause fights that end with a corpse.   The rules of your habitation block and basic living rules for living on Chaar shall be given to you by the Comabticons—they are the administrative end of the Decepticons and our military needs.  And I would not worry about having a lack of opportunity for combat……..the cyborgs from the neighboring planetary system keep thinking they can invade here, we constantly drive them out.   Plus there is Starscream—who thinks he is better than I and has been raising an army.”

            “Ah, _that_ sounds like fun, my lord,” Flamewar chuckled softly.  “I have a set of laser daggers—one in each wrist.  Plus a plasma bolt crossbow and a Cybertonium Bow.”

            “A ranged fighter, then.  Your alt mode…..?”  Galvatron inquired, mildly interested—but still not feeling very right about the femme overall.   Her choice of weapons also could classify her as an **_assassin_**.  He sent a brief warning glyph-message to Onslaught to have her monitored once he processed her citizenship on Chaar.

            “ _Motorcycle_ ……..on the organic worlds with similar vehicles.  My old Cybertronian form was a _courier-skater_ —similar enough to a motorcycle,” she responded, grinning up at Galvatron winningly.  “I’ve been out on the fringes of the war since……….. _mmm_ , pretty much since the fall of the Crystal City.   When Megatron began swelling the ranks with the Robo-Smasher, great masses of assault forces were sent out into the universe to conquer for him.”

            “I see,” the Decepticon Leader murmured.   He had no idea about that particular moment of the past of his previous incarnation.  He would have to ask someone about that later, _if_ he remembered to do so—or if he still even cared about that later.   “You may report to Onslaught and Blast Off.  The administrative office is the smaller building right before the habitation block area.   Cyclonus will escort you there.”

            “As you command, my lord,” Cyclonus murmured, bowing.  He took Flamewar from the throne room.

            Galvatron frowned as he stood up from his throne and paced.

            “ _Lord Galvatron_ ,” a familiar voice said, coming into the throne room shortly after Cyclonus left with the femme.   It was Hook and he had a datapad in his servos.   The tone in his vocalizer was serious, but **_not_** worrisome.   It was……… _curiousity_?   “Before I tell you **_this_** stuff—do you want to know about the Robo-Smasher and anything like that?”   The Constructicon medic asked, tilting his head at Galvatron as the powerful war machine settled back into the throne.

            “Oh, you heard all that?   I am afraid I do not remember anything about that event,” the Decepticon Leader sighed.

            “It’s all right.   I’ve seen the alterations the plasma pools made on your memory circuits and processor.  It may be for the best.   I know that your Prime has told you before about the Quintessons and our ancestors, right?   And mostly, even Vector Sigma kept the basic coding on down through the generations………..so that those with the codes of the military hardware line most often chose to become Decepticons and the ones with the codes of the consumer goods line tended to choose the side of the Autobots,” Hook said, simply.   “It was not always one-hundred percent guaranteed that would wind up that way, but it most often did.   However, Megatron found a way to _alter the coding_ to convert those with the consumer goods coding over to the military hardware coding………..with the most ridiculous name of the _‘Robo-Smasher’_ —if the Constructicons built it, we’d have come up with a **_finer name_** , that’s for sure!”  The Constructicon laughed softly.

            “You all did not create such a device?  Then was it Shockwave—I vaguely recall _that mech_ had a talent for tinkering?”  Galvatron asked, curiously.  “I find it hard to believe my previous self could have been capable…….”

            “He _was_ , actually.  Megatron had a talent for scientific tinkering—it may be the one thing that drew him to Starscream, to be honest.  Starscream, too, had a passion for science,” Hook laughed, warmly.

            Galvatron frowned deeply.   _But it made sense_.   If his previous self had a leaning towards science and Starscream loved science—it may well be how they had teamed up in the Decepticon army together so very long ago.

            “You are _different_ , Lord Galvatron, and that’s just fine.   So, please, do not concern yourself about the time when you used to be Megatron,” Hook responded, soothingly.   “We were generically unaffiliated back then, hired construction workers.   We built great buildings and great cities on Cybertron, including the Crystal City.   Our original coding was for the consumer goods affiliation…………but Megatron used the Robo-Smasher on us and changed us to the military hardware coding.  We destroyed the Crystal City at his orders.”

            “ _Mmmm_.   I see,” the Emperor of the Decepticons said, softly.  “Do you ever feel regrets over such a thing?”  He inquired, looking at Hook with apprising optics.

            Hook gave a little sigh, remembering Omega Supreme and their friendship.   The destruction of the Crystal City which tore apart their friendship.  The friendship that sometimes they all actually found they missed.  “Sometimes, I think some of us do feel regrets.  But Megatron gave us the ability to combine and………..for those of us in such units, you can’t imagine the ties we all now share, which we did not ever before _.   For good………..for bad…….. **for eternity**_.   It’s all worked out, I think,” the Constructicon medic answered.

            “Very well, then,” Galvatron responded, leaning forwards and placing his elbows on his knees and looked down at Hook.  “Why have you come to find me today, Hook?   Is there someone in medical danger?”  He asked.

            “ _Ah_ , no Lord Galvatron!   I came to share with you the results of Novablaze’s recent medical checkup!”  Hook said, his sombriety changing back to excitement.   “I know it wasn’t what either of you intended, but First Aid and I are deeply, _deeply_ indebted to you for giving us **_true newmechs_** to observe and learn about.  Novablaze and Stormbreaker will show us how we can help our race combat viral strains and repair injuries with more specificity and efficiency.”

            “It pleases me that you medics have been able to learn from our spawn, then,” Galvatron responded with a big grin, showing his sharp fangs, of pleasure.  “Please share your report on my heir’s condition!”  He added with a sense of excitement.

            “As Hot Rod may have told you, we’re expecting a growth spurt from Novablaze fairly soon.  His armour and derma seem to have softened up a bit and this is consistent with his previous growth spurts, but it looks as if some of the skeletal portions of his frame are lengthening much more than in previous growth spurts,” Hook reported, scanning through his report and picking out the simplistic explanations.   “This means he will be _much larger_ after this growth spurt and you probably won’t be able to set him in the crook of your arm anymore, my lord.”

            “ _Ah_.  Well he would have to grow so large at some time, I suppose,” Galvatron chuckled, smiling down at the Constructicon medic.

            “I also think he _may_ be able to assume an alt mode soon, because his T-Cog looks fully formed up now,” the green-and-purple mech added with a chuckle and swiped through a few screens.   “It’s quite interesting because, I know we have been assuming he’ll have an aerial mode………but the function of his T-Cog is _multi-purposed_ —there are some Transformers like this, and they all have two to three alt modes.   So………if he _does_ indeed have an aerial mode, he may also have one other mode, too.”

            “ _Hmmm_.   So, does this mean his armour will change shape, as well?   If he becomes more like a true Transformer—then his armour should show more definition of his alt mode or multiple modes, correct?”  The Decepticon Leader asked, becoming more and more curious at the evolution of his son now.   _A triple-changer at least!_    Perhaps Novablaze truly would become greater than him one day—truly worthy of taking charge of the Decepticon Empire.

            That conversation between himself and his Prime came back into his head.   Galvatron did not actually believe in his own mortality, but………even if it _should happen_ , he would ensure Novablaze would be able to take over for him one day in a far-off future.   When his son returned and had recovered from his latest growth spurt………he would begin to teach him more about combat—teach him how to fight and how to rule properly!

            “I thank you greatly for bringing me this information, Hook!  I am _very pleased_ with it,” the Decepticon Leader said, grinning with excitement.

            “I do have _one last thing_.  **_His Spark_** ,” Hook began, trying to contain his excitement on this next part.  “The only time I have seen a Spark like _this_ has been Hot Rod’s.  The flaring shows that it has an ignition **_beyond_** that of a normal Spark.   Actually, I would not expect anything different coming from yourself and Hot Rod—the both of you have unusual Sparks.   First Aid and I have been calling them **_‘Premium Sparks’_**.   But Stormbreaker _doesn’t_ have a Premium Spark.”

            “She does not?   Why not?   Would it have been because Starscream……..” Galvatron began, ire rising in his systems as he began to consider that his hated rival mech may have harmed his second offspring even more than he anticipated.

            “ _No_.   Whatever Starscream contributed to Stormbreaker’s growth had **_nothing_** to do with her Spark,” the Constructicon medic explained.   “Her Spark’s definition comes only from its original ignition.   And what’s different from her original ignition over Novablaze’s, my lord?”

            “I……….. _well_.   The difference is in my Prime.   His frame and such,” Galvatron murmured.   “He……..carried the Matrix the first time and the second time he did not.”

            “ _That’s right_.   Novablaze’s Spark _contains energy_ from the Autobots’ Matrix of Leadership,” Hook said, very seriously.   “Even if we consider yours and Hot Rod’s Sparks as Premium Sparks—Novablaze’s Spark can still be classified as _something entirely different_ than yours and Hot Rod’s.”

            Galvatron sat back in the throne, absorbing this new information.  He and his Prime clearly created something so much more than what any Transformer had ever been before, it would be interesting to see what his heir would develop into!

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            Novablaze watched his carrier and Springer with great intensity.   He was sitting on the floor on the far side of the recreation room with Arcee and Sixshot.  Stormbreaker was crawling and babbling endlessly in a small area in front of Arcee—if the femmeling tried to crawl beyond the pink-and-white femme’s reach, she was quickly scooped up and plopped back down within reach again.   Stormbreaker was treating it as a game and squealing with excitement, trying very hard to see if she can get beyond Arcee’s reach.

            Springer swiveled on his left pede, adeptly, with the right leg going high for a head-shot, Hot Rod ducked low and raised an arm to block the green-and-yellow mech’s high-kick.  He pushed on the leg to try and get Springer off-balance and scooted out one of his own legs for a sweep.  Springer let the pivot on his left pede go through the whole swing and hopped a little to prevent losing his balance.

            “Ya definitely _ain’t_ lost any of your skills, kiddo,” the Autobot fighter laughed.   “Thought you might’ve gotten soft with two kids hanging onto your frame, but you _definitely haven’t_!”

            “You have never had _Galvatron_ as a lover—there’s no berth-play without some kind of physical activity as foreplay first,” Hot Rod chuckled softly, so that only Springer could hear that statement.   They bumped forearms and grinned at each other.  “Trust me.  _I keep in shape_.”

            “I **_still_** don’t think that’s healthy, Roddy—but whatever-whatevs,” the green-and-yellow mech chortled in low tones, giving a shrug of his broad shoulders.

            “Galvatron’s really _a lot of fun_ in the berth and with the foreplay,” the flame-colored mech responded with a wicked grin.   “Sword work next?”   He asked, tilting his head at his old friend.   “Hey, Sixshot—can I borrow your sword for a little bit?”  Hot Rod asked, turning towards the small audience.  “Hey Nova, you look really intense……..what’s up?”  He inquired, noticing the mechling’s intense attention as the Decepticon warrior got up and walked over to hand over his sword.

            “I didn’t know you could fight like that, cari!”  The little purple mech said, awe in his vocalizer.

            “Your sire and I used to fight like this all the time—Galvatron _always_ pushed me to my limits and made me better,” Hot Rod answered, lifting and swinging the sword a little to get a feel for it, once Sixshot walked back to the wall and sat down.

            “ _That’s so cool_!!!”  Novablaze cried, clapping his small servos with excitement.

            “You have a good kid there, Roddy,” Springer chuckled, warmly, reaching back over his shoulder and pulled his helicopter blades out, which subspace-folded into a single-bladed sword.  “It’s hard to believe **_Galvatron_** can produce something like _that kid_.”

            “ _Pfft_ ………come on, Springer—there’s a bit of **_my_** CNA in Nova as well,” the young, flame-colored mech laughed.  He turned to face his old Autobot friend and they both backed into stances with swords at the ready.

            Stormbreaker babbled cheerfully and hit Novablaze’s hip lightly.   The mechling chuckled and pulled his little sister into a seated position on his lap.   “Watch cari, Stormy—look at how _awesome_ cari is!”   The little purple-mech said, excitedly.  

            Arcee watched to make sure Novablaze held onto the femmeling carefully and kept one optic on the two younglings as she also watched her own lover and Hot Rod spar.   The tiny red femmeling batted her clawed servos lightly on her older sibling’s legs and babbled endlessly, until she saw the shiny flashes of swords striking each other.   Then her attention focused completely on the swords and she reached out with grabby-hands.   Novablaze chuckled and rubbed a servo lightly on his little sibling’s helm, optics focused on the playful-combat………..but held on tightly to her with his other arm.

            “You’ve _still_ got some skills with a blade, kid— ** _impressive_**!”  Springer laughed as they pivoted and spun and swords clanged and scraped.

            “It’s _always_ the footwork, never discount the footwork!”  Hot Rod chuckled in response, spinning his body in a 180-degree twist and sweeping upwards with the sword in his right servo.

            “Gentlemen…………I hate to interrupt your _playtime_ , but we are approaching the Outer Edge planet designated as _Krieslan_ —the coordinates that those Decepticons gave you as the place they left the female Decepticon they served with,” Sky Lynx announced over his intercom systems.   “We will be landing in a clearing about five miles from the sanctuary where they supposedly left her.”

            “All right, let’s make the preparations,” Hot Rod said, lowering the sword and nodding at Springer.   As Sixshot approached him, he handed the blade back to its owner by the handle with a warm word of thanks.  The flame-colored mech led the group back to the bridge area of the shuttle-mech’s interior.  “I’ll take Arcee with me and Storm will kind of have to come along in her sling.  I think that with femmes with me, perhaps we can put Slipstream more at ease, because if she merely sees my Autobot symbol it _might_ make her worried or uncomfortable.”

            “Prime……..I have discovered some other signals on Krieslan.  I’ve picked up some on the old Autobot frequencies as well as on the Decepticon frequencies,” Soundwave announced as soon as he caught the flame-colored mech’s attention.

            “How many _other signals_?”  Hot Rod asked, his optics widening beneath their glass coverings.

            “They seem _converged_ on one spot—conversing with one another,” the Decepticons’ communications officer responded, nodding at Hot Rod and handing over a datapad with information and coordinates.   “They are a bit further from here—about twenty or thirty miles away.”

            “Autobots and Decepticons talking to……….. _each other_?”  Arcee inquired, curiously, tilting her head at Soundwave.

            “ ** _Really_** , Arcee?”  Hot Rod groaned.   “Companionship out of loneliness isn’t that unusual, you know………..?”

            “We’ve really **_got_** to break out of the old mindset,” Springer interjected, hugging the pink-and-white femme’s shoulders.

            “I suppose _that’s_ true,” the Autobot femme chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around Springer’s waist in return.

            “Then I’d like Sixshot and Springer to go check in on those other signals, while Arcee and I go looking for Slipstream,” Hot Rod said, pulling on his carrier sling and then reached down to pick Stormbreaker up from Novablaze’s arms.   Gently he shifted his femmeling’s squirming, babbling frame into the sling and she wiggled a little bit to get comfortable and then began to settle down, her babbling trailing off as she drifted into a nap-cycle—comfortable and satisfied against her carrier’s chest.   “Nova………..I’m going to trust _you_ to stay here and protect Soundwave with Sky Lynx.   Soundwave is a _non-combatant_.   He _can_ fight if necessary, but he has always chosen to be a non-combatant when he can.   _Your sire_ would want you to protect the Decepticons’ communications officer, do you understand?”  The flame-colored mech said, kneeling down and placing light servos on his mechling’s shoulders, gazing deeply into the dark blue glass-covered optics.

            “ _I can do it, cari_!”  Novablaze said, firmly, nodding.   He promised he would be brave and like a leader, just as his sire would expect of him.

            “ _I’m so proud of you_!”  Hot Rod gushed, hugging Novablaze carefully, so he didn’t squish Stormbreaker between them.

            Then Hot Rod made some last minute preparations and explanations and the group split off.   He and Arcee began walking in the direction of the church sanctuary, while Springer and Sixshot transformed into their aerial modes and went in the direction of the cross-faction communications coordinates.   Novablaze remained aboard Sky Lynx with Soundwave to wait patiently for all of their returns.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            Springer was never good with silence and _definitely_ not good at chatting up Decepticons.   But he’d heard that Sixshot was a great warrior and clearly the Decepticon could use a blade, so…….the two of them did have _some_ common ground.   Therefore, the green-and-yellow mech, currently in his swift-speed helicopter form, decided to strike up random conversation—as a good first step towards trying to understand the Decepticons as Hot Rod wanted the Autobots to try and do.

            Sixshot’s aerial form was a space jet—and by that token, far faster than Springer’s aerial form—but he played nice and kept a pace equal to the Autobot beside him and chuckled to himself as the Autobot tried to start up a random conversation.  It was _so very Autobot_ that Sixshot couldn’t help his internal laughter.

            “That’s right, I was a one-mech destruction tool,” Sixshot answered the Autobot’s query about his warrior skills.  “My T-Cog has a _mutation_ ……..I have my primary mode and _five more alt modes_.  My space cannon mode is nearly on par with Lord Galvatron’s alt mode, but I can’t channel the subspace supernova energy like he can—it’d totally fry all my systems if I tried.   It’s merely a traditional plasma conversion shot.”

            “Well, I do have two alt modes……..so I have a multi-function T-Cog, as well.  It’s a racecar—so that’s why Roddy and I became friends,” Springer responded with a chuckle.   “When I realized I could subspace-fold my helicopter blades into a sword, I worked pretty hard to learn to use that weapon.   Not a lot of sword combatants on the Autobot side, so I mostly learned by observing ‘Cons in combat.”

            “The young Prime’s very excited about the racetrack,” the Decepticon warrior said, a tone in his vocalizer indicating he’d be smiling beneath his warrior’s facial shield if he were in his primary form.   “He’d had a number of mechs asking if they could somehow fit _that_ in the entertainment district.   I’m surprised to see how many Decepticons have claimed wheeled vehicle forms in the past millennia—in my days, back on Cybertron, we mostly had aerial modes and weaponized-vehicle modes, as would be expected from a line called _‘military hardware’_.”

            “Do _you_ like Roddy?”  The Autobot warrior asked, very curious about the answer.

            “A lot of us Decepticons really do.  He tries _very hard_ to understand us………..the coding that locks us into ways and methods………..and he tries to find a way for us to live peacefully with that coding as well,” Sixshot answered, doing a barrel roll just to keep his flight pattern fresh and to keep from getting bored by flying so slowly.  The blue-and-white mech straightened out and kept pace back with Springer again.  “Trust me, if he can take on the mech that is our Emperor and find a way for **_him_** to live well with a sense of peace—it’ll work for _any_ of us Decepticons.”

            “You would’ve served under Megatron—so, what do you think of Galvatron?”  Springer asked.

            “He’s a violent bastard, but………. _very straightforward_.  And **_that’s_** refreshing.   Megatron was devious.  A good commander, but………because he always kept so many secrets it made you worry if a decision he made to send you to an area of combat would wind up being your grave in the end,” the Decepticon answered, a bit of melancholy in his voice.   “Galvatron would _probably_ tell you he’s sending you to a no-win situation even as he ordered you to go…………and surprisingly, that frank kind of truth is very nice in a commander.  Even if he’s absolutely crazy………but he’s actually a bit _less crazy_ now, with the young Prime around.   I think the Spark-bond balances our Lord Galvatron a lot more.”

            “I think the accords really **_are_** a good thing……………but I know it’s hard for us Autobots because we fell into having to become combatants.   So, we went against our coding to fight and once you struggle against your own coding for so long—trying to get back to your original state is pretty hard.  I think that’s why it’s not easy for the Autobots to simply accept _this_ way of peace—we always thought peace would be achieved with the death of every Decepticon.”

            “For Decepticons, we still adhere to our coding—the Trylians, Starscream and his Destrons—we just changed the **_focus_** of our wars and combat drive to _other_ venues and combatants,” the blue-and-white mech laughed.   “So, young Autobot warrior—let me pose _this_ to you!   If the issue is trying to reset back to your original coding—then slowly ease back into it by becoming the _allies of the Decepticons_ against **_our_** enemies.   Autobots have no issue choosing allies in combat, you brought those tiny fleshlings into our war…………and you’ve allied with other aliens in the universe.   _So!_    Consider this next step as an alliance with us against a common enemy……….therefore you can _befriend allies_ , isn’t this right?”

            Springer listened to the words, even though he bristled at being called “ _young_ ” by anyone—though he supposed Sixshot was probably _far older_ than he was.   And the Decepticon had a point.   If the Autobots refocused on “ _the enemy_ ” and made that particular enemy Starscream and the Destrons—then considering the Decepticons as “ _allies_ ” such as how the Earthlings had become allies………….then maybe it could make the transition of the ceasefire accords graduate more towards an actual lasting peace?   It was an idea worth trying—and Springer would be the first to try this…………and try to encourage others who had been like him and unhappy at “ _befriending_ ” Decepticons for the sake of the accords.

            “Let’s give it a try, then.   Sixshot—let’s try to become _allies_ and………… ** _friends_** ,” Springer said with a warm laugh in his vocalizer.

            “ _Sounds fun_ ,” the Decepticon warrior chuckled.   “The coordinates encompass this entire area.  I’m receiving two Cybertronian Spark readings on my sensors…………they _aren’t_ together at the moment, but they aren’t very far apart.”   Sixshot transformed to his primary mode as he dropped towards the ground………………and practically dropped on top of a blue-and-yellow mech with an Autobot brand, who was _much shorter_ _than he was_!

            “Whoa………..just scare the poor mech, bro!”  Springer groaned, transforming to his primary mode and landing neatly next to Sixshot.   The blue-and-yellow Autobot was only a little bit shorter than Springer.   “Hi there.  I’m Springer—this is Sixshot………… _aaaaaaaaaaaaand_ what did Hot Rod say we were supposed to say to them?   _Primus_ , I hope it’s not Kup’s dumb universal greeting………..”

            The Autobot before them took a deep incycle and exvent, then he laughed loudly.  “Is that oldmech **_still_** around…………and does he **_still_** use that universal greeting?”   The mech asked, trying to relax, but it wasn’t quite so easy with an extremely tall and bulky Decepticon in front of him.

            “I’m afraid he _is_.  You know he’s totally going to outlast everyone in the universe,” the yellow-and-green Autobot chuckled, holding out a friendly servo towards the stranger.

            The blue-and-yellow mech slapped his servo against Springer’s wrist and waited for the return clasp of his own wrist before they shook arms in a gesture of friendship and brotherhood.   “My designation is Metalhawk.    I’ve never seen you mechs before, but then there’s not too many of us left here on Krieslan,” he introduced as he pulled his grip from Springer’s.   “I need to get back home.  Fang _needs_ me—I promised just to go out to the hydro-generator and pick up today’s harvest of Energon,” he said with a bit of worry in his voice.

            Springer looked over and a few yards away he saw a stream with an Energon converter nearby—focusing on hydro-electric energy to convert into Energon.   These two were clearly _just barely surviving_ —those small hydro-generators couldn’t possibly produce much Energon on a daily basis.

            “Is it all right if we come with you—we’d like to talk to you and your lover about a promise of home and Energon enough for you both,” Sixshot responded, noting the endearing shortening of a designation and derived that this Autobot was a lover and partner of another mech who was likely the Decepticon from Soundwave’s broadcast interpretations.

            Metalhawk looked a bit anxious, but nodded and motioned for the two to follow him.   The habitation……………. _area_ …………..was nothing more than scrapped metal (quite possibly carved from an old shuttle or even the frames of battlefield corpses) patched together in some kind of lean-to against a hillside.   Sixshot couldn’t possibly fit inside the lean-to and Springer _barely_ fit inside with the two mechs.   The other mech inside the lean-to was a Decepticon who was…………. _not in good shape_.   He was missing a leg and half-an-arm, his armour had probably been a vivid magenta and black once, but now it was a greyed-black and dull-magenta.

            “This is Fangry.   We were both left for dead on the battlefield and clung to each other to survive,” Metalhawk introduced.  He went over to his unconscious lover and pulled him up into a sitting position, waking the sleeping mech up.  “Fang, we have some company.  Here’s some Energon.”

            “ _’Kay_.  Thanks, Hawk………” the tired and previously-injured Decepticon murmured.   He drank the un-purified Energon slowly as Metalhawk tilted the canteen over his lips.

            Sixshot peered in, making sure to show his Decepticon brand, to help convince Fangry that an Autobot _and a Decepticon_ were here **_together_** to find them.  He looked to Springer to convey Hot Rod’s greetings and message of sanctuary wherever the two wished to call home at.   The Autobot held up a datapad and played Hot Rod’s prepared message for them.

 

**[Greetings fellow mechs and femmes, my designation is Hot Rod and my assignment is the Autobot Ambassador to Chaar—I was formerly the Autobot Leader known as Rodimus Prime and carried the Matrix of Leadership for a time.  I pre-recorded this message for my allies to play for anyone we may find on this journey.   We are looking for the combatants out on the frontier…………the lost, the lonely, the hurt and the ones who cannot travel home—we are here to bring you home, if that is what you wish.   The Autobots are currently stationed on Cybertron and some with our allies on a planet called Earth, while the Decepticons are stationed on a planet called Chaar.   As the Autobot Leader, I forged a set of ceasefire accords with the current Decepticon Leader designated as Galvatron.   This is basically a sense of peace—Autobots and Decepticons no longer fight one another and for all purposes the war is over.   I was made aware by some of my Decepticon and Autobot assistants at my embassy that there were many others out in the Outer Edges who may not have the ability to travel home, so I took time from my duties to try and come find some of you.   You can choose to come to Chaar, or you can go to Cybertron—I will see you to the place you want to call home.   I know there are dangers out in the universe and I know it is difficult for our kind to live freely, but I’m trying to carve roads into making a difference on that front.   Even if you choose not to come with us, you are free to live as you are with no condemnation, but I wish to inform you that Starscream is out there—allied with a Quintesson named Raj-ur-Malekk—and they have been building a new army and gave themselves the name of “ _Destrons_ ”.  They are trying to ignite a new war with both the Autobots and the Decepticons.   If you remain out on the frontier, you may be approached by Starscream or his Destron agents—you may also choose to ally with them, but I don’t think Starscream will treat you very well.   And for anyone who remembers Starscream from millions of years ago, I can assure you he hasn’t changed for the better—he is still just as devious as he ever was and with his new ally, he is far more dangerous.   To that end, I want to recommend that you come home to Chaar or Cybertron, where we can try to protect you, as well as give you a new home.]**

 

            Metalhawk gave a low whistle and Fangry gave a soft chuckle.

            “Hawk………..I _want_ to go with them—to somewhere we can call home.   Starscream is no joke and I don’t want to be out here if he’s out here,” the old, injured Decepticon murmured, reaching up his good servo to cup his Autobot lover’s faceplate warmly.

            “Then let’s go, Fang,” Metalhawk murmured, leaning his head down to touch their foreheads together in a gesture of fondness and love.

            “My space jet alt mode should be able to carry you both back to our ship,” Sixshot said, nodding at them from the doorway.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            Hot Rod and Arcee came upon the church sanctuary—it was surprisingly large enough for most Cybertronians to fit inside.   They were greeted by robed natives of Krieslan—female, if the flame-colored mech was not mistaken.   If this were Earth, this would be a nunnery or a convent…………a religious sanctuary _only for females_.   The natives were very tall, but well-built for their size………….they vaguely resembled Earth equines with a spiral horn emerging from the top of their head—Hot Rod thought there was actually an Earth legend of some kind about an equine with a horn, but he couldn’t remember what it was right at this moment.   But these equines were bi-pedal—their legs ended with hooves, but their arms ended with slender four-fingered hands covered in the same short fur their entire bodies were covered in.   They had whip-like tails, barely noticeable beneath their robes, which ended in a thick tuft of hair—varying in colors as their tightly-pulled-back mane-like hair was.   And like the Earth equines they resembled, they had pointed ears on each side of the spiral horn that swiveled to pick up sound variations all around them.

            As the flame-colored mech followed closely behind the two that were leading him and Arcee all the way towards a garden area at the back of the sanctuary, he noticed that the nuns all had little stubby wings protruding from slits by the shoulders in the backs of their robes.   The taller of the two Krieslans, who had a long, dark-blue mane that was tied tightly at the back of her neck and wound into a strange-looking shape, motioned to the two Cybertronians to stop at the doorway and quietly told her companion nun to wait with them.  The shorter Krieslan nun had pink hair that was only loosely pulled back at the back of her neck.  She folded her arms into the long-sleeves of her robe and smiled at Hot Rod and Arcee warmly.

            “Slipstream, you have guests— _members of your own kind_.   Do you feel like speaking with them?”  The head nun asked, softly, lightly rubbing the purple femme’s helm with fondness.

            The female Decepticon had the standard aerial frame………..greatly resembling the Seeker trine of Starscream, Skywarp and Thundercracker.   So there was much similarity to that design in the helm, forearm gauntlets, boots and the expressive wings on her back—but the chest and waist of her frame had a femme’s shape, with a high-cut to the armour chestplating and a low cut to the hip-plating, showing a thinner waist of exposed derma and frame.   Her purple armour had some darkened-yellow and moss-green runner lines in it.

            She was watering a large area of some kind of floral growth in the garden.   Flowers of every color and shade seemed to permeate the section of the garden.   When addressed, she looked up at the head nun with only a pale glow in her old, red optics and tilted her head with puzzlement.   Then her head turned to follow where the head nun was pointing, at Hot Rod and Arcee.   Slipstream’s mouth opened with a small “ ** _o_** ” shape and she almost dropped the watering can.

            “I……..I will speak with them, Mother Fanciful,” Slipstream murmured softly, carefully setting the watering can on the ground and walked towards a set of benches nearby in the garden.

            The head nun walked back over to the flame-colored mech and the pink-and-white femme, then told them to go and be seated at the garden bench with Slipstream, so that they could talk in comfort and serenity.

            Slipstream looked shyly up at them and absently covered her Decepticon brand when she saw the Autobot brand on Arcee’s chestplating.   She couldn’t see the brand on Hot Rod’s chest, because of a strange cloth across it, but assumed he was likely an Autobot as well.   Arcee remained standing, while Hot Rod sat down next to the female Decepticon and smiled kindly at her.

            “Slipstream, my name is Hot Rod…….my companion is Arcee.  I was once known as Rodimus Prime, Leader of the Autobots for a time.   I, now, manage the Autobot Embassy on the Decepticons’ chosen homeworld of Chaar,” the flame-colored mech said, softly, holding his servos out to her politely.  He held her servos gently when she slipped battered old, clawed servos into his smooth servos.

            “I……….I see.   What is that across your chest, Hot Rod?”  Slipstream asked, quietly, nodding at the sling.

            “ ** _Oh_**.  _Ah_ ………..this is my second born sparkling—her name is Stormbreaker,” the flame-colored mech laughed warmly.  He pulled the sling open a little bit so the purple-colored femme could peer in at the small femmeling in her nap-cycle against her carrier’s chest.

            “ _You……….have borne new life?_   This is truly a newmech born of _your frame_?” Slipstream gasped, gazing at the little femmeling in complete awe.   “But that shouldn’t even be possible…….it just……..can’t really be possible.”

            “I have the stretchmarks on my derma and core frame to prove it—if I removed my chest armour!”   Hot Rod laughed warmly.  “And it’s a _real experience_ , let me tell you.   But I’m sure you want to know why I’m here and I came to find you, right?”

            “It is indeed a curiosity, yes,” the purple-colored femme chuckled softly.  “I can’t imagine why an Autobot would come looking for a _broken Decepticon like me_ ………..” she added, her voice becoming very sad.

            It was a tone that Hot Rod was all too familiar with.

            “Because the Autobots and Decepticons have forged a kind of peace—the details can be explained later, but a couple of Decepticons from your old military unit told me they dropped you off here after the others in your trine were killed.  They’re named Wingspan and Pounce,” Hot Rod explained, reaching one servo up from the clasped hands, to place it to the side of her faceplate.

            “ _The twins_.   They watched over me for so long and tried so hard………..but the loss hurt **_so much_** ,” she whispered, leaning into Hot Rod’s servo.  She could feel the kindness and compassion in his EM field.  “ _I’m broken_ …………. ** _I’m broken and can’t be fixed_** …………” she sobbed, her voice going very low and very sad.  Her own field wobbled out with deep sensations of her loss.

            Hot Rod reached out and caught her wobbling field with his own, placing warmth into it and holding onto her field carefully—as Galvatron _always_ did with him.   He knew her ache so intimately and it echoed through him, feeling so similar to a range of feelings he’d had before.  Not so long ago, really.   The flame-colored mech knew **_this_** was what he was truly meant to do………..he knew exactly how the pain and loneliness felt.   _Galvatron saved him from that_ ……………now it was **_his turn_** to save others—just as Galvatron said, _igniting his fire_.   Hot Rod would become **_a light in the darkness_** for all of those who were lost, as _he_ once was lost and broken—as Slipstream felt _she_ was still even now.  The flame-colored mech released her hands and made sure both his servos were firm on the sides of her faceplate as he leaned his forehead to hers with warmth and kindness.

            “Things that are broken can usually be mended,” Hot Rod said softly.   “A broken Spark-bond feels like it can _never_ be fixed…………. _and maybe it can’t_ …………but it _can_ be patched and healed and you can _live with the pain_.   You can conquer that pain and find joy, even without the ones you loved in your life anymore.   You can find new ones to love and share a new life with.   **_You are not alone_**.  And you will _never_ be alone again.”

            Optical fluid streamed from the miniscule seams around her optics and she hiccupped with her sobs, her gaze slowly moving to meet Hot Rod’s, even as close as they were.   She recognized a kindred spirit—one who has felt the dark depths of both abandonment and loneliness.  Her servos raised to rest gently on the sides of Hot Rod’s faceplate.  Static popped and prevented her words from emerging from her vocalizer, but she kept trying until she could finally get understandable words to come out.

            “ _Thank you_ …………..thank you so much, Hot Rod…………..” Slipstream whispered, taking comfort in the Autobot’s kindness and warmth.   And finding joy in his brilliant guiding light.


	2. The Craft and Art of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galvatron and Starscream fight...........while Hot Rod and his allies encounter dangerous enemies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried hard to keep this Starscream separate from my "Star Voyager" version--but a bit seeped in anyways. XD
> 
> I apologize for such a late posting........I'd hoped to have this story done in November, completely--but stupid life and things happened. *bows deeply*
> 
> Have a Stormbreaker ref, which I hope will apologize for how this chapter ends: https://www.weasyl.com/~keirajo/submissions/1707392/stormbreaker-ref Also, this, too........though technically neither of them are grown up yet: https://www.weasyl.com/~keirajo/submissions/1707387/nova-and-storm-final-drafts

_ Chapter Two:  The Craft and Art of War _

 

            Galvatron was pleased with the update that Hot Rod sent him, especially since his precious little Prime was looking _very happy_ and _very alive_ ………..the spawn were also alive and Novablaze actually had to be cut off, because his descriptions of the journey were going on far too long for a subspace communique.   He admitted to himself that hadn’t seen his beloved little Prime like this in a very long time.   The Leader of the Decepticons hoped that this positive mentality would last long after Hot Rod finally returned to Chaar.

            “I have a report from Onslaught, my lord,” Cyclonus said, interrupting Galvatron’s wandering thoughts about his Prime.   Normally the purple-and-grey mech would never complain about having to compete with the Autobot for Galvatron’s attention, but now that Hot Rod had been gone for a week and Cyclonus was the _only one_ that the Emperor of the Decepticons had dragged off to the berth—the Second-in-Command was tired of the long nights being the _only lover_ in his lord’s berth.

            It made him appreciate Hot Rod’s presence on Chaar far more than he ever had before.   Because it actually let him have some free time to himself every so often.   It would be nice if Galvatron grabbed just _anyone_ again, but the Decepticon Leader seemed to have stopped doing so in recent years—and likely because of the young Prime.

            “I appreciate the diligence, Cyclonus,” Galvatron said, nodding down at his loyal lieutenant and took the datapad from him.  “ _Hmmm_.   It appears the femme has been behaving herself.   Still………… _something_ about her nags at me,” he mumbled, tossing the datapad back down at his lieutenant.

            Cyclonus caught it, nimbly.  “Are you certain, my lord, you are not peeved because of her coloring and frame patterns?”  He inquired.  The moment _he’d_ seen the femme with her red-and-purple, plus the flames—he’d fully expected Galvatron to execute her on sight for “ _stealing_ ” his Prime’s frame pattern!

            “ ** _Nnngh_**.  I do not appreciate that she has stolen my Prime’s flames, but…….no.  It is _not_ that.  It is something in the way she stands and moves………and that her field is completely _locked down_.  I have never encountered any of our kind who can completely block off their EM field,” Galvatron snapped with a bit of annoyance in his voice.   “ _Not from me_.   **_Never_**.”

            Cyclonus tilted his head, puzzled.   _That_ was why?   But then, even the fellow Unicronian-redesigned mech had to agree—Galvatron had an _incredible sense of instinct_.  It was beyond the level of **_any_** living being’s instincts.   Was _that_ why Galvatron was more sensitive to fields, then, as well?   _His instinct?_

            “I am _certain_ she is hiding something, but I _do not_ know what,” Galvatron added, cutting into Cyclonus’ thoughts.   “Her weapons are suited not just for a ranged fighter, but for _an assassin_ as well.   It is not as if her small weapons could damage _my_ powerful frame, but…………she may be here to hurt _those around me_ , in order to hurt me.”

            All of the sudden, Cyclonus saw where his lord’s thoughts were going.   _Hot Rod and the younglings_ …………she could be here to _harm them_ —which would enrage Galvatron!

            “When the Prime returns, I shall be very careful to make sure that Flamewar is nowhere near the embassy and its areas, my lord,” the loyal lieutenant murmured, crossing an arm over his chest and bowing deeply.   “Perhaps it is best that you warn the young Prime, _before_ he returns, to be aware of this Decepticon femme?”  He added.

            “Do not worry, I shall make sure he is forewarned of her— ** _if_** she is not gone by then,” Galvatron muttered.  Then he saw a Decepticon at the doorway near the far end of the hall.   “Onslaught?   It is odd to see you here at the palace, is there a problem?”  The Emperor of the Decepticons asked, motioning for his administrative chief approach the throne.

            “ _Perhaps_.   While I haven’t caught any footage of a specific individual doing so—I thought you might like to see this,” the commander of the Combaticons sighed, approaching Galvatron and showing him a datapad.

            Galvatron leaned back into the throne and began swiping through the photos, a scowl breaking out upon his faceplate and deepening into a fanged snarl by the time he was done with the few dozen photos of various buildings in the habitation block.   Graffiti all over some of the solid walls of the habitation buildings, _rude glyphs and gestures painted_ —as well as **_slurs against the Autobots_**.

            “It _must_ be her,” Galvatron snarled, throwing the datapad back at Onslaught.   “All these years and this has not happened before—this femme comes to Chaar and suddenly unrest is ignited.”

            “I agree, but…………without proof, Hot Rod would probably be upset with you for simply coming down upon her with all your anger, Lord Galvatron,” the administrative chief responded with a sigh.  “Perhaps what we need is………… _some community service_.   As she is currently amongst the jobless—why don’t we provide her and some of the other jobless Decepticons with the temporary job of covering up this graffiti—and then I’ll see what other random community acts I can assign the jobless to keep them busy and out of trouble.   I’m also going to see if Swindle can figure out good camera setups to see if we can catch her in the act.”

            “Onslaught—you have not heard of any unrest or dissatisfaction with the Autobots or the Prime in general, have you?”  Cyclonus inquired, holding out his hand for the datapad with the photos, so that he could evaluate them as well.

            “I think, as far as all that goes—it’s pretty much the same as with the Autobots.  As long as there’s no interaction—most don’t really care in one way or another.   _But none of ‘em_ have a problem with Hot Rod—he’s nice and charming enough that most Decepticons actually like him.  _He listens to what they want_ ,” the Combaticon commander chuckled, warmly.  “Oh, she _has_ been asking me about the embassy, though.   Of course, _that_ immediately made me watch her even harder—but for now, I explained to her that the embassy was on a temporary closure while Hot Rod is on vacation.  I warned Carnivac to keep an eye on the building and he’s made sure that all the staff is aware of the situation.”

            “Please continue to keep to your observations, Onslaught—your diligence is greatly appreciated,” Galvatron said, nodding down at the commander of the Combaticons.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            Slipstream kept mostly to her quarters, or spoke with only Soundwave or Hot Rod.   She seemed very anxious around so many people—primarily mechs.   Hot Rod didn’t think it was actually because they were mechs, per se, but that they were loud, talkative and being really rather macho.   The female Decepticon did help Hot Rod attend to Fangry’s old injuries and brought the bed-ridden Decepticon fresh Energon every few hours on her own.   But, otherwise, she avoided everyone else—though was very polite to Arcee.

            And Slipstream remembered Soundwave.   So, she was very comfortable with him, because she remembered how he was always the non-violent type.   In fact, in the past, Soundwave had brought her trine their orders pretty often………she’d always enjoyed the company of his Cassetticons, especially Laserbeak and Buzzsaw.

            “The Hunter Trine?”  Hot Rod asked, curiously.   They were sitting on the floor in the quarters she had chosen in Sky Lynx’s habitation suite area.   Stormbreaker was crawling around on the floor between them, batting around her round, plush kitty and babbling happily.

            “There were _three trines_ —which makes sense when you think of it,” Slipstream answered.  “Of course, Starscream’s Seeker Trine was the most well-known and popular of all Megatron’s aerial trines.”

            “Then there was like…………Dirge, Ramjet and Thrust—right?   What were they?”  Hot Rod asked, glancing down at the femmeling near him.   He chuckled as the plush rolled into his knee and Stormbreaker, in her mad crawling dash for the kitty, smacked lightly into his knee joint and whimpered.   He rubbed her helm gently and then set the kitty right in front of her.   She hugged it and rolled over onto her side on the floor, purring with the plush in her arms and eventually slipping into a nap-cycle, tired out from her playing and babbling.

            “They were the Recon Trine.   They focused mainly on gathering the information on the enemy, the movements and the layouts—sometimes some hit-and-run stuff,” the femme responded, smiling down at the little one sleeping on the floor, claws dug into the plush kitty.  “So, that left us—the Hunter Trine.  We were the ones with full authority to hunt, assassinate and strike once Megatron turned us loose.   He sent us to the frontier, figuring we could take care of ourselves and assist any of our forces out here.   Sunstorm was the most powerful of all the aerial warriors, regardless of what Starscream ever thought of himself.”

            “ _That idiot_ thinks too highly of himself,” Hot Rod mumbled with a frown on his faceplate, as he crossed his arms over his chest.

            “It was probably a good thing so much distance separated us from the Seekers, because Sunstorm and Starscream hated each other, _tremendously_ —it may have been all-out war if we hadn’t been sent offworld,” Slipstream chuckled.   “Acid Storm was pretty even in attitude, although he was incredibly mischievious most times.   Sunstorm put up with his pranks, because he was fantastic in the berth……..those two were so weird, but I _really_ loved them a lot.   I _miss_ them so much, too.”   Then she paused.   “The way you talk about Starscream, though—has he personally hurt you?”  She asked, softly.

            “ _Oh!_    _Um_ , well……….. ** _yeah_**.   When I was carrying Storm he…………he’d kidnapped me and……..did lots of things to me,” Hot Rod murmured, raising a servo to rub the back of his neck.   Then he reached over and rubbed a gentle finger along Stormbreaker’s tiny helm.  “That’s why she’s………got this coloring and the aerial form.   Starscream fragged me while I couldn’t fight back against him—it was enough transfluid to alter whatever form her frame might have originally been.”

            “I may be biased, but I think her aerial form will be _beautiful_ ,” Slipstream said, reaching for Hot Rod’s servos with kindness.

            “You’re biased, but that’s okay—I live on a planet with a guy who has _massive biases_ , every single second of the day.   Galvatron’s opinion is everyone’s opinion,” Hot Rod laughed.  “But still……..I really love him, even if he is an incredible aft.”

            “Is he _really_ like that?  Overblown and dramatic?”  Slipstream chuckled, tilting her head at the young, flame-colored mech.

            “I _cannot_ do justice describing him, Slipstream.   You’ll have to see what he’s like when you get to Chaar—though you can go to Cybertron if you want.  I’ve talked with Magnus about putting in a _Decepticon Sancutary City_ —though you’ll probably have to help build it if you go there,” Hot Rod said, smiling at her, fondly.  “It’s nowhere near completed.  I’m trying to get the Autobots and Decepticons to do more than just tolerate each other…………”

            “I think millions of years of war will take _a lot longer_ than a handful of years to find a peaceful balance from,” the Decepticon femme chuckled.   “But……………Sixshot spoke of working at your embassy.   What would one do at your embassy?”

            “It depends—I’ll find a use for _anyone’s_ skills.   Carnivac has become a great administrative assistant—he helps me do the budget, delineate payments and paydays.  Brainstorm, a techie—I’ve given him the job of our I.T. director,” Hot Rod said, reaching down to rub Stormbreaker’s helm again.   “The twins and Twinferno are both still being slotted in somewhere, but mostly do errands, janitorial work and so forth.   Once more people actually _want_ to visit the embassy, I’ll have more for people to do than keeping the building looking pretty……….”

            “I see.   It might be worth looking into working there myself,” she responded, grinning happily.

            Hot Rod was pleased to see her opening up more and getting better.

            “Hot Rod………..you might be pleased to note that Soundwave has picked up some Cybertronian transmissions on a nearby planet.   The astronavigation charts label it as _Teru_ ,” Sky Lynx announced over his communications system to the room the flame-colored mech was in.   “It looks as if the native population are fluffy little critters that are about to the size of your knee-joints.   There’s a number Cybertronian signals down there, but………………Soundwave is unnerved by a couple of them.   Which means they are Decepticons he would caution us to be incredibly wary of.”

            “I’ll speak with him,” Hot Rod said, getting up and carefully picking Stormbreaker up into his arms and wrapping the sling around her as a blanket.   “Thanks for the talk, Slipstream.   Please feel free to go anywhere you want, even if people unnerve you—gain courage if you can.”

            “I will **_try_** , Hot Rod,” she answered, standing and giving a little half-bow with hands folded before her.  It was probably a gesture she learned in the sanctuary.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            Galvatron, still worrying over the possible uprising that he suspected Flamewar of trying to foment, chose to make a surprise walkthrough of the habitation block area.   In general, he knew most Decepticons were uncomfortable around their lord and master—so, he was kind enough to leave them be outside of battle.   His little Prime had taught him that………….

 

 

_“It’s your **field** , Galvatron…………it’s **massive**.   I always know how close you are, because of its proximity and intensity,” Hot Rod chuckled, as they lay in berth one night.  “They respect you and fear you—but you make them hella uncomfortable my lord!”   He laughed._

_“ **‘Hella’** —what in the pit is **that** term?!”   Galvatron groaned, stroking the sunbright yellow spoiler on his little Prime’s back._

_“Heard it from Danny.  I guess it’s like a shortening of **‘hell of’** or something,” the flame-colored mech responded with a grin, snuggling close._

_“ **Fleshlings!**     They have hundreds of languages, thousands of words………..yet they **still** must make up new ones!   Can they not find a way to express themselves with the words that they have?”   Galvatron snapped softly._

_“Says a guy who prefers to have **his nova cannon** speak his words,” Hot Rod teased, brushing his larger lover’s lips.   “Look, back to the original topic.  **Your field**.   It’s **crazy heavy** , Galvatron.   It makes people nervous when they feel your field near them.”_

_“But I always keep it neutral.  Unless I am in a mood,” the Decepticon Leader said, a soft, pouting tone in his voice.   “It does not bother **you** …………”_

_“No, because………….to me it’s like a blanket.   It’s almost **comforting** to feel your field draped over me,” the flame-colored mech answered, relaxing back down on Galvatron’s chest.   “It doesn’t matter whether your field is neutral or has some emotions running through it— **even anger** —I know you’re there, somewhere near, when I feel it.   It **reassures** me.”_

_“Can I………ever make it so that it reassures **my Decepticons**?   So that they know their lord is there to watch over them?”  Galvatron asked, though the trailing off of his tone made it sound more like he was musing over the very idea._

_“Perhaps one day.   But remember, the war’s only **recently** at a halt…………and the Decepticons are trying to find their own way without the war, most are probably as nervous as the Autobots—though for different reasons.   Because of their military programming—you **do** need to give them battle, though…………..they **need** it as much as you do,” Hot Rod said.  Galvatron grunted something non-committal at him.   “The humans have a thing called **‘The Olympics’** —they are a series of games to test strength and skill.    We can develop something similar, with a more………….battle-format kind of oriented.  To give them exercise when you don’t have the Trylians or Starscream causing trouble.”_

_“ **Battle games**?  **Yes!**   I **like** this idea, my little Prime!”  Galvatron said, excitedly, rolling the flame-colored mech beneath him, very carefully.  The Decepticon Leader’s engines upshifted with excitement and arousal—and it was very evident by a spike pressurizing against his open plating that Hot Rod knew his lover was ready to go at interfacing again tonight.   “I want to see **you** in these battle games as well, my Prime—I **know** they would benefit you, too.”_

_“Okay,” Hot Rod murmured, moaning deeply as the thick black spike penetrated his valve and he clutched at his bigger lover.   “I’ll do it, for you………..” he whispered, tenderly brushing his lips over Galvatron’s chin, seeking his lips.   “I’ll do **anything** for you—you’re the **only one** who believes in me………. **unnnngh**.   **I** ………. **I love you**!”  Hot Rod cried, arching beneath his lover as the spike thrust into him and hit sensitive waiting nodes, ready for charge and overload._

_“ **My treasure** ………..” Galvatron purred, holding the smaller Autobot close and giving him the pleasure he wanted—as well as taking the pleasure that the Emperor of the Decepticons himself wanted._

 

            So, as he walked through the habitation block area, Galvatron kept his field as tight and as neutral as possible—to try and put the Decepticons around him at ease.   He found himself rather surprised at the habitation buildings, how many they could have living in them and how many there were.   The Decepticon Leader truly had been unaware of how many Decepticons were here on Chaar, beneath his rule.   He was certain his young Autobot lover was aware of every single one and even knew all of their names.

            “Cyclonus…………how many Decepticons are here on Chaar?”  Galvatron murmured to his lieutenant, as he walked through the streets.

            “At our last census—which Onslaught provided the statistics to me almost a month ago—there are currently two-hundred and thirty-seven Decepticons here on Chaar.   We began with one-hundred and sixty-two already still under our banner when you brought your Prime to live on Chaar, the remainder have come in from the frontier since then,” Cyclonus reported, in a quiet and even tone.

            “I see,” the Decepticon Leader murmured.   Then he turned a corner and saw some of the graffiti damage to one of the walls.   “ _This_ displeases me.   I _have not_ forced my Decepticons to become friends with the Autobots, we have merely benefitted from no longer clashing with them on a daily basis.   My Prime has given us a better path for the Empire.   I do not understand why there would be unrest………….and such vulgarity to punctuate it with,” he added, motioning at the wall with a frown on his faceplate.

            “All it takes is a single, unhappy, individual to stir things up,” the purple-and-grey armoured lieutenant sighed.    “Ah, Blast Off……….is there a problem?”  Cyclonus asked when he saw the Comabticons’ second-in-command approach them.

            “ _Oh!_    No, sir……….I felt Lord Galvatron’s field in the area and came to see if I could assist you in any way!   Just want to be helpful, sir!”  Blast Off said, hurriedly, with a nervous bow.

            “I appreciate your diligence, Blast Off,” Galvatron responded, giving a polite nod.   Hot Rod had told him that people respond better when you address them by name—not just being called “ _you_ ” or some inelegant term.   So, he was trying to do more of those things which his precious Prime encouraged him would show him to be a better leader to the Decepticons.   “Do you recall how many of these buildings were tagged with such vulgar graffiti?”   He asked, curiously, pointing to the wall they were standing in front of.  “ _‘Tagged’_ is the proper term, is it not?”  He murmured, tilting his head when Blast Off gave him a very surprised look.

            “ _Uh_.  Yes, it _is_ ……….I’m just a little surprised you knew such a term, my lord,” the Combaticon responded, nodding his head energetically.   “There have been five of the twenty buildings defaced by a perpetrator or perpetrators—no pattern, just random.   Or someone trying hard to make it look random, so it wouldn’t be thought of as the same individual or individuals.”

            “ _You_ think there is more than one, do you not?”  Galvatron asked, softly, following the Combaticon as he lead them to another building with more vulgar graffiti on it.

            “I am aware of the popular theory, my lord……….however, I believe there’s more than one, simply because of _the artistic style_ used in the various tags.   One is _signed_.   The others are not.   An artist who cares about their tags would sign it,” Blast Off explained.   At which he gained another puzzled head tilt from Galvatron.   “The style varies, too—though with glyphed-graffiti, taggers tend to change their fonts and formats as they desire………..but the vulgar pictures added shows that different artists’ servos made them.   I think the one who signed their tags were jumping on a bandwagon—I’m not certain they are involved in the anarchist nature of the overall tagging.   But it is merely _my opinion_.”

            “ _Hmm_ ,” Galvatron murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.   “Then if we have a _true artist_ amongst the Decepticons—I should like them to do a _proper mural_ rather than mere graffiti.  Will you speak to Onslaught about trying to coax the true artist, and not the mere anarchist, out of the shadows?”  He inquired, looking down at the Decepticon.

            “Do you mean such as building murals, like those Earthlings would do in their large cities?”  Blast Off asked, curiously, making some notes on his datapad to bring up to his commander.

            “Perhaps those, _eventually_ —if we can weed the anarchist out, for the anarchist would defile whatever the artist would do,” the Decepticon Leader answered, shaking his head softly.   “I was considering perhaps something in the palace.   There is the long hallway that leads to the throne room—I feel it could use something that an artist could give to it.”

            “I will do my best, my lord!”  Blast Off said, eagerly, giving Galvatron a formal bow before rushing back off to the administrative offices.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            “I recall _those two_ ,” Sixshot sighed, shaking his head with annoyance.   “They like to hurt things—they’ll stir up trouble for no reason because………..”

            “They like to poke the hornet’s nest……..as my friend Daniel would say,” Hot Rod finished, chuckling softly.   “I wonder…………do you suppose they’re here converting for Starscream or……….are they just travelling about the universe stirring up trouble on their own now?”

            “I suggest you _do not trust them_ , either way,” Soundwave answered.   “I have picked up an Autobot signal here as well and then one…………that is ambiguous—as if they use both frequencies as they choose.”

            “Then………..if the weird Decepticons are a problem—we may as well look for this Autobot, right?”   Springer said, looking at Hot Rod for affirmation.

            “ _That_.   But………I wonder about the one using both frequencies,” the young, flame-colored mech responded.   “And we need to leave a couple people here to protect the others on Sky Lynx.  Fangry can’t move and Metalhawk is still weak.   Slipstream……..”

            “I…….I will go—if I can go _with you_ , Hot Rod,” the Decepticon femme murmured, coming into the command room.

            “All right,” Hot Rod responded, grinning at her.   “Sixshot—remain behind with Soundwave and keep me apprised of things.  Keep an eye on the movement of those two Decepticons.   And Novablaze is still napping—so let him know we’ve gone looking for more potential new friends if he wakes up.”   Then Hot Rod checked on the sleeping Stormblaze in her sling against him.   He smiled to find the femmeling still deeply in her own nap-cycle.   “So, Springer—I want you and Arcee to go find the _ambiguous one_.  You two can prepare to fight if you need to—but remember, we’re here to offer a way home to any Cybertronian, regardless of the brand they’re wearing.   _Remember to play nice_.   Slipstream and I will go and look for the Autobot.”

            Springer sighed, smiled and shrugged, turning to Arcee and the two left the room to head out for the coordinates of the last chatter from the ambiguous Cybertronian.   Hot Rod and Slipstream set off at a leisurely pace to find the Autobot—whose coordinates of their last burst of chatter came from was rather close.

            “What do you think, ‘Cee?”  Springer inquired as he drove alongside his sparkmate and lover.

            “Of _what_?  Of Hot Rod……?”  She responded, warmth in the tone of her voice.

            “His situation, all that stuff.   Yeah, Galvatron’s shown to be pretty possessive—and Hot Rod doesn’t have a scratch on him, just some bite marks on his neck cabling,” the green-and-yellow Autobot sighed, softly.   “You think he’s okay on Chaar, though?”

            “ _Yeah_.  I think _he is_.   I look at him and the younglings—they’re _Galvatron’s_ , you know—and I don’t think I’ve seen him this happy since Daniel was a little kid,” the pink-and-white femme responded.  “Maybe _that’s_ what destiny gave him—that opportunity with Daniel to prepare him for bearing children of his own.  Though none of us ever thought it was possible _our species_ could bear offspring.”

            “I suppose _even Galvatron_ has some winning characteristics,” Springer chuckled.

            The two drove and chatted cheerfully with one another, about random things………..eventually reaching the location of the coordinates and they scanned around for Cybertronian Spark-signatures—and found themselves surrounded by two Cybertronians instantly.

            “Transform…………but do _not_ try anything,” a rough voice snapped.

            “We will not allow any underhanded tactics—even if you appear to be wearing Autobot brands,” a more mild voice added.

            “ _‘Cee_ —you know who _that guy_ is, don’t you?”  Springer murmured as they changed into their primary modes and stood still with their palms open to the two surrounding them.

            One was a very tall mech, with dermal colors of white and armour of blue and red.   The other was a mech with light-grey and dark-grey colors on his frame.   The tall, brightly colored mech had an Autobot brand on his chest…………but the other had a Decepticon brand that had been scratched through the middle with a deep scar.

            “Yes, yes.  I _know_.   But I advise you not to move a micrometer until we verify your identity,” the tall mech laughed warmly.  “Names and affiliation.   Commanding officer.  Mission.”

            “ _Uhhhh_ ………‘Cee, do we give Optimus Prime or Ultra Magnus as our commanding officer right now?”  Springer murmured, looking down at his lover with a bit of puzzlement.

            “ _Teeeeeechnicallllllly_ ……….it would be Hot Rod right now, wouldn’t it?   Because we’re on this mission with him and he’s in charge,” Arcee responded, smiling up at him.   “I’m Arcee—an Autobot.   Optimus Prime’s the current Autobot Leader, but we’re here on a mission with Hot Rod— _formerly **Rodimus Prime**_.”

            “I’m Springer.  According to Roddy, we’re here to ask if you guys want to go home……….’cause the war’s pretty much over?”  The yellow-and-green Autobot added.  “‘Cee………if the Autobot is here—and that Autobot happens to be _the one and only_ legendary Star Saber— ** _what signal_** is Hot Rod following?”  Springer whispered.

            Star Saber tilted his head at them, puzzled.  “What do you mean?”  He asked.

            “Our friend—we split up into two groups.   Hot Rod sent us to search out an ambiguous Cybertronian signal………..I think that might be _you_ ,” Arcee said, pointing at the silent grey-colored mech with the twin concussion rifles.   “Hot Rod and Slipstream were going to follow the Autobot signal to meet up with _you_ , Star Saber.”

            “ ** _Slagging Pit_**.   _Them_ ,” the grey-colored mech growled.  “Can this Hot Rod fight?  Because if he cannot……..”

            “ _He’s carrying a child with him!_    He **_can’t_** fight with Stormbreaker strapped to his chest!”  Arcee cried.

            “ _A child_?”  Star Saber murmured, looking at his shorter companion as he sheathed his sword at his back.  His companion with the scarred Decepticon brand, hitched his rifles to his back.   “We chased them here, they’ve been going from world-to-world looking for Decepticons and recruiting them for Starscream—who has apparently gone rogue.”

            “Yeah.   _That’s_ a story of its own,” Springer groaned.   “We’ve gotta go find Roddy—he can’t fight with the kid attached to him…………and the femme is still too wobbly to fight yet!”   He said, firmly.

            “ _Femme_ ………. ** _Slipstream_** ,” the grey mech murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.   “Not without the Hunters surely?”

            “They’re gone—she’s been alone in a religious sanctuary for a number of years,” Arcee said, softly.  “Who _are_ you, anyways?   We know Star Saber and we introduced ourselves……….?”   She asked.

            “ _Deadlock_.   **_Bounty hunter_** ,” he said, curtly.  “Saber and I have teamed up to hunt down these two.   They’ve been causing too much damage in their rambling through the Outer Reaches on Starscream’s whims.”

            “Are you……….. _unaligned_ then?”  Springer asked, sizing up the Decepticon bounty hunter.   “If you two are roaming around on your own—then neither of you probably want to _‘come home’_.   Meaning this was a complete waste of time.”

            “That can be discussed later—I think it’s best that we look for your friends,” Star Saber said, firmly.  “Deadlock—go search in an alpha pattern.   I’ll take to the skies in a zeta pattern.   You two should see if you can get in contact with your friend and warn him.”

            The two of them got ready to take off, but stopped when they realized they didn’t know what Hot Rod looked like—though Deadlock knew of Slipstream.

            “The color of flames and a flame pattern on his chest—though he’ll have a pink cloth patterned sling covering most of it, his femmeling is in there,” Arcee answered, quickly.

            “ _Understood_ ,” Deadlock said in his rough voice, dashing off into the woods at a swift and silent pace.  

            Star Saber nodded and transformed his armour into an aerial form, while a smaller form, about the size of Arcee or Hot Rod, hopped into the piloting seat of the aerial form.

            “Now what, Springer?”  Arcee asked.

            “I sent Hot Rod a glyph message, but………..it’s being blocked, I keep getting an _‘unable to receive’_ error,” Springer answered.

            “You don’t think those Decepticons already got him………..?”  The femme murmured, concern seeping through her EM field.

            “If they’re working for Starscream—they’re no longer Decepticons, they’re _Destrons_ , right?”  Springer said, rubbing her back, comfortingly.  “Let’s get back to Sky Lynx.   Soundwave can communicate with Hot Rod, I’ll bet!”

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            Galvatron in battle was something to appreciate.

            It had only been an hour since Ultra Magnus had sent an emergency message to Chaar requesting Galvatron’s assistance (and any other Decepticons he’d like to throw into battle).   However, rather than the roundabout wording he used—he probably should have opened with “ _Starscream’s here_!” and no other words were necessary.

            Because after fifteen minutes of verbal explanation from the Autobots’ Second-in-Command, Galvatron was just about ready to snarl:  “ _Can you Autobots not handle anything for yourselves_?!”—and cut Ultra Magnus off, when suddenly the red-white-blue mech blurted out Starscream’s name.

            Galvatron uttered a roar for troops and was on Cybertron in less than forty minutes!

            But, yes, as earlier stated—Galvatron in battle was **_indescribable_**.   His every movement, his every action—his every bark of orders or glyph-sendings if the battlefield were too loud for his voice to be heard—it was all **_a perfect orchestra_** of both skill and power.

            The hum of plasma energy charging and the roar of the nova cannon expelling blasts and hitting targets punctuated the sounds of battle cries, yelling, clanging and sharp zings of laser fire.   Every one of Galvatron’s blasts hit their targets—either stopping them completely, or merely slowing them down in the case of the powerful gestalt, Liokaiser.

            “ ** _Starscream!_**    _You coward!_    Hiding behind your troops!”   The Decepticon Leader snarled viciously, throwing a mech over his shoulder as if he were throwing away a piece of garbage.  He raised the garish orange cannon on his arm up to raise it at Starscream’s flagship, the _Shadowstalker_ , and fire at it.  The plasma energy hit its mark, but the powerful shields simply dispersed Galvatron’s blast into fragments across the invisible shield, seeming like a ripple of energy flowing across the hull of the ship.   “You always talk big, but when it comes down to what really counts, you will throw everyone else ahead of you to take the consequences you should endure!”

            Starscream, on the bridge of his ship directing the battle, was trying to ignore Galvatron’s taunts.   That was what always got him in the messes he got in with Megatron—he always started barking back at the one he knew could tear him to pieces.   After all— _it was Megatron’s fault to begin with_ ………..Megatron’s fault that he was even a Decepticon.   If fate had been kinder—he **_would’ve_** been a high authority in the Science Association, along with Skyfire, instead.

            _The damn Robo-Smasher._

            Now Starscream had _no choice_ but to obey the programming of the military hardware line—the lust for conflict and battle, overriding **_all_** his original desires.   It only fueled the former Decepticon’s rage more than ever before.   The Robo-Smasher didn’t just change the programming of the frame—it altered the coding in the Spark.  The Spark, which had the base master codes for all Transformers as individuals……….and it was left in his program ghost, even when Raj-ur-Malekk ignited a new Spark for his program ghost to inherit.

            If he _had_ to be locked into a particular destiny—he would take control of it and fall into the darkness _his own way_.   He would **_become the darkness_** —the monster that governments and parents warned those they were supposed to protect about………just like Unicron.   Starscream was sick and tired of letting fate forge his path—if destiny deemed him to be the source of evil, then he was going to be the best “ _bad guy_ ” the universe had ever seen.

            And that meant _ignoring_ Galvatron’s ridiculous yapping.

            “I know you want to fight him,” Raj-ur-Malekk said, softly.   “And I know you’re trying to fight against that—but here’s a good chance to vent your rage, against someone who actually deserves it.”

            “ _Damn Megatron_ …………” Starscream muttered.  “Can you direct the battle—according to our plans laid out?”  He asked, a tone of reservation in his vocalizer and looked at his Quintesson partner.

            “Child, I was doing this _long_ before your Spark was even considered for ignition,” the Quintesson biologist laughed.

            Starscream nodded and checked his weapons—both physical and subspace ones.   He leaped out of the Shadowstalker and used a code to get through the shield before it closed back up again.   He landed in front of Galvatron with determination.

            “You demanded my presence and here I am,” Starscream said, coolly.  “Let’s _finish_ this………… ** _Galvatron_** ,” he added, trying very hard to call the purple mech by his proper current designation.   All he saw through his rage was **_Megatron_** before him.

            “ _Finish_?   Oh, Starscream……….we have only just begun, have we not?”  Galvatron chuckled, raising a servo and curling it in-and-out of a fist several times, so that Starscream could hear the crackle of joints being stressed and loosened.   “Mewling little coward.   Hiding behind all your troops and stealing my Decepticons with your empty promises.   Hurting my precious Prime and seeking to harm my spawn.   Do you honestly believe I will make this quick and painless for you?”

            “ _Are you even listening to yourself?_    You used to be all………… ** _emotions are for weaklings_** and all that.   Primus—you’re like the _complete opposite_ of who you **_used_** to be!”  Starscream groaned, as if he were bored, but still keeping tense and battle-ready.

            “I _do not care_ who I used to be—I would be extremely happy if I could also purge you from my memory banks, as easily as I apparently purged my old life!”  Galvatron growled, raising his nova cannon and began charging it up.

            “ _I hate you_.   I hate that you took my life from me.   I hate that you made me enjoy being in the berth with you and all your little perversions.   I **_really hate_** that you killed me for only being what you crafted me into………….. _you colossal aft_!”   Starscream yelled back, reaching over his shoulder through a subspace pocket and pulled a sword out, to brandish it easily and knowledgably.   “ _You_ made me this villain, I hope you’re happy.  I’ll send you to the Afterspark so you can argue this with Primus himself.”

            “Do you honestly think **_I_** have a hope for the Afterspark?   _I’m headed to the Pit_ and I intend to claim it as my own and rule over it, as I have ruled over my Decepticons in life!”   Galvatron responded, roaring with laughter.   He set loose his nova blast, as Starscream rushed forwards and swept the sword in an upwards arc at his arm.   The Decepticon Leader pulled his arm away at the last moment, sending the nova blast in a drooping arc across the battlefield and into a tower.   Swiftly he spun with their momentum on a pede and grabbed Starscream by the throat, coming to a halt facing the opposite direction from where he started.   “Anything else, Starscream?”  The Decepticon Leader growled, bringing up his other servo to place the opening of his nova cannon against one of Starscream’s wings.

            “ _Not a damn thing_ ,” Starscream chuckled, static in his vocalizer as he slashed wildly with his sword and sliced off Galvatron’s right leg at hip-joint.   The sudden snap of pain through Galvatron’s systems sent part of them offline into a shock sequence, but he merely snarled and threw Starscream away from him before his balance crashed him to the ground.   “ _Ah_ , poor baby.  Lost a leg, did we?   Let me help you lose a few more limbs and such……….” The former Decepticon purred, drawing the sword back.

            It was suddenly shot out of his servo and when he looked around to see who shot him, he saw Ultra Magnus with his blaster raised.           

**[Shall we call a retreat?]**   Raj-ur-Malekk’s voice said in his audial, via personal communique.

            **[May as well.]**    Was the response, right before a glyph message went out to the troops to call the retreat.   “I suppose we shall have to resolve this _another time_.  I promise I won’t be as distracted next time,” Starscream said to Galvatron, sprinting to scoop up his sword and then leaped into the skies to fly back to the _Shadowstalker_.  “This is why I didn’t even want to go onto the battlefield………” he muttered to himself, angrily.

            Starscream and his Destrons retreated and everyone relaxed.   Autobots and Decepticons assisted the injured and wounded, as Ultra Magnus strode up to Galvatron, who was trying to reach for his severed leg and grunting with annoyance.

            “Are you all right…………. _Lord Galvatron_?”  The Autobots’ Second-in-Command asked, softly, being very careful to use the formal title—in case Galvatron was in a mood.

            “Merely typical battle damage.   I’ll need the medic to reattach the joint, my self-repair nanites will take care of the rest,” Galvatron responded, coolly.   He wasn’t concerned about the injury at all, but he was really rather pissed off that he couldn’t stand or walk right now—his own bulk worked against him, on one leg he’d have no balance or sturdiness at all.   So the Leader of the Decepticons remained seated on the ground, being as regal as his claimed position always showed him to be.   “Let us _not_ inform my little Prime of this incident—for he will worry beyond measure over _nothing_.”

            “It just means he cares about you,” Ultra Magnus chuckled, motioning to First Aid when the Autobots’ CMO appeared nearby.

            “First Aid—I would appreciate if you can reattach my leg at the joint, my self-repair nanites will handle the remainder of the injury so that you may focus on all other wounded,” the Decepticon Emperor said, serenely.

            First Aid paused with shock, to hear Galvatron address him by name.  “Are…….you certain you have no more injuries, Lord Galvatron?”   He asked, kneeling beside the powerful war machine and appraising the joint damage, then looked at the severed limb.

            “I would inform you if I did.  _No_ , do not worry, I am _not concussed_ ………..my little Prime has coached me to address others by their designations, so that I might foster more ease in them doing their tasks around me,” Galvatron chuckled, sharing a wolfish grin with the Protectobot medic.

            “You gave Hot Rod that confidence—and he is sharing his wisdom with you,” Ultra Magnus said, smiling down at Galvatron, warmly.   The Autobots’ Second-in-Command was always amused at how formally Galvatron spoke—he never used contractions, he used to never use names and only titles.   It was quite different than Megatron………the Decepticon this purple mech used to be was a bit more devious in his wording, not as formal, but always as demanding.   “Lord Galvatron—have you heard from Hot Rod since he left?   I got a brief glyph message saying everything was going good.”

            “Yes, my Prime has sent me a status report recently—right after they departed Krieslan and had taken on Slipstream, Metalhawk and Fangry,” the Decepticon Leader explained, glancing up at Ultra Magnus briefly, but then focused back down to watch First Aid reattach his leg.   “He explained that they found several signals on various planets within the vicinity of Krieslan.   So, I imagine they have continued on to one of those nearby planets and he will inform me once they have rescued more lost warriors.”   Galvatron looked up at Ultra Magnus and smiled very fondly.  “He sounded _very happy_ —so, I believe that this journey has been very good for him.   I look forward to his return, so that I may see how brilliant his fire has become.   Perhaps it will be like it was when we first met in the depths of the Chaos Bringer?”  He mused, chuckling softly.  “And my Novablaze may have grown a bit by the time they return—Hook informed me of an imminent growth spurt.”

            Galvatron grunted when First Aid got his leg attached and he felt the flow of his self-repair nanites and system commands attend to the wound.   All of the sudden a stab of pain went through his Spark and he gasped, slamming a servo to his chest.

            “Lord Galvatron?   Is something wrong?”  First Aid gasped as the powerful war machine began to incycle and exvent rapidly.

            “ _Prime_ ………. ** _my Prime_** ……..” Galvatron whispered, feeling like something was being torn from him.  “ ** _Nnnnnnnnngh_**!  _I must go_!  This…….” the Decepticon Leader groaned, right before he fell onto his back—stunned instantly into unconsciousness.

            Ultra Magnus suddenly realized what it meant— _that was the breaking of a Spark-bond_!

            **_Hot Rod_** ……………..

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            “Hot Rod…………these are………..Darkwing and Dreadwind……..” Slipstream gasped when they came upon two mechs in the depths of the forest.  

            The two Decepticons had the same colors on their frames…………purple, blue and light grey……..just in different layouts on their armour and derma.  Dreadwind had a rounded helm with a warrior’s facial shield, while Darkwing had stubbed finials on his helm and no facial shield.   And at the moment, they were standing in a bloody circle of a group of natives that they obviously had slaughtered.

            “It’s about time, Hot Rod—we got a little bored and played with some of the natives,” Darkwing chuckled, hefting his large rifle over his shoulder.

            “You need to be a bit more efficient at following Autobot signals—or were you wary of the sender?”  Dreadwind laughed, streaking the green blood of the furry natives across his faceplate and flicking his glossa out to taste the bitter acid of the native critters’ blood.

            “They were _waiting_ for us,” Hot Rod murmured, his body tensing as he got ready to fight as best as he could with his femmeling strapped to his chest.   “Slipstream— _you’re_ much faster than I am.  I want you to get back to Sky Lynx and _get Sixshot_ …….he might be the only one powerful enough to take these two out.   I _can’t_ transform with Storm here—and the forest isn’t exactly favorable to my alt mode.”

            “But Hot Rod— _these two are dangerous_!   I can’t even tell you how dangerous they are!”  The Decepticon femme cried, softly, grabbing his shoulder desperately.   “ _I can’t_ …………I can’t leave you here to fight them on your own!”

            “I _can’t_ glyph-message anyone—these guys are blocking all kinds of communications sendings.   I can’t even glyph Galvatron…….and that would normally carry along the Spark-bond, at most desperate circumstances,” the flame-colored mech said, firmly, still keeping his attention focused on the two former Decepticons……..now, clearly, wearing Starscream’s Destron brand—the merging of both Autobot and Decepticon marks into a single brand.   “ _You’re_ the fastest, Slipstream—I can hold out until you get Sixshot……… _I promise_.  I’ll cover your escape…….” he said, seriously, holding up his arms and aiming his piping at the two Destrons.

            “Oh, you’re going to fight us?  Pretty brave of you—but then, you were _supposedly_ the Autobot Leader for a few years,” Dreadwind chuckled, drawing patterns on his chest with the green blood of the slaughtered natives.   “Lover……….. _how strong_ do you suppose he is?”  The purple-blue-grey mech said, leaning over onto the one of Darkwing’s shoulders without the rifle bouncing on it.

            “ ** _Go now, Slipstream!_** ”  Hot Rod ordered, setting loose a brilliant volley of fire, moving sideways to cover the femme’s dash off and up into the sky as she transformed into her stealth jet mode.   The sonic boom of her full-throttle takeoff had the two Destrons covering their audials as they also tried to dodge Hot Rod’s cover fire.   “ _Now_ ………..let’s dance,” the flame-colored mech chuckled, keeping himself battle-ready and tensed for more.

            Darkwing and Dreadwind re-focused their attention fully upon Hot Rod.   They had to admire the littler mech’s lithe movements—his speed and maneuverability— _even with a sparkling strapped to his chest_.

            _‘Keep up the footwork.  Don’t stay still.   Don’t let them lock on to you as a target,’_ Hot Rod said to himself as he kept himself moving, using his arm piping to shoot out short barrages of laser fire to keep the two mechs from aiming properly at him.   He traded in his size and strength for speed and agilty—so, Galvatron said.   Though really he was back to his original form, but Galvatron’s sparring with him made him faster and more focused upon combat and the battlefield.

            Hot Rod ducked behind a massive tree and sharpened his hearing.   He sped low on his pedes as twin rifle fire hit above him and shattered a huge chunk out of the tree, laying down a volley of laser fire from his piping to prevent them from locking onto him as he slid through some thick brush.   Stormbreaker woke up and gurgled softly.

            “ _Shhh_ ……..your carrier needs to concentrate to keep us both alive, Storm,” Hot Rod murmured, stroking the sling above where his sparkling’s helm should be.   Her gurgling stopped and she shifted, but Hot Rod could tell from her tiny EM field that she _did not_ go back into her nap-cycle.   She was alert and awake—as if sensing the danger they were in.

            “I _like_ this game,” Darkwing chuckled, sweeping his head back and forth to attune his sensors to Hot Rod’s EM field and heat signature, from amongst the static signatures of the forest’s landscape.   “But it’s _too easy_.  Too bad we weren’t on a hotter planet—it’d mask your signature more.”

            “Well, he is called _‘Hot’_ Rod………so I imagine his heat signature might be a bit higher than normal,” Dreadwind laughed, grabbing handfuls of the brush and tearing them aside.

            Hot Rod dashed away and spun to face them, raising his arms to lay out another volley of laser fire, but his piping fizzled out.  _‘ **Damn** ………..out of charge.   And out of time………’_ he thought.   “I’ll protect you with all of my body, Storm— ** _live boldly for me_** ,” the flame-colored mech murmured, turning his back to the two Destrons and stroking the bundle against his chest.

            Darkwing and Dreadwind roared with laughter, firing their rifles at the same time—their shots struck across Hot Rod’s back in a scattered pattern, piercing deep into his frame.

            _‘This is it……….. **ah, the light** ………….Galvatron, I’m so sorry………’_ Hot Rod thought as a brilliant light exploded behind his optics and his body sank.  But even as he fell to the ground, he curled his body in a tight and protective shell around Stormbreaker.  Even as his Spark flickered and faded, he swore he would let **_no enemy_** touch his precious femmeling……………

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Transformers TCG card for Deadlock labels him as a "bounty hunter"--a weird similarity and a defining departure from the IDW version. Since neither Deadlock or Star Saber are "going home" with Hot Rod and the others--they're merely here as space filler. I already use these guys a lot in my "Star Voyager" series. *chuckle* I find I'm really looking forward to who they put in the next expansion of the TCG, besides Windblade (as she's on the promotional illustration for it). :)
> 
> Again, my apologies for how late this is and how the ending of this chapter may freak all of you out............ *bows deeply and runs away*


	3. God Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life and death........and life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all didn't worry too much--because this is going to be epic pretty soon. *grin*

**_ Chapter Three:  God Spark _ **

 

            _In crisis situations, everything always happens far too fast…………._

 

            Deadlock paced through the forest nimbly and quickly—hearing laser fire and rifle booms deeper into the heart of the woodlands.   He sped up his pace, comm-linking Star Saber on his position, closing in on the sounds of fighting.

 

            Slipstream put her engines at _maximum output_ , breaking past her limits, to try and get back to Sky Lynx and get Sixshot before Hot Rod got hurt or worse—she was utterly shocked when a violet and yellow shadow sped past beneath her, low in the skies—barely above the treeline.

 

            Darkwing and Dreadwind were advancing on Hot Rod’s body, to tear it apart and look for the fear-filled sparkling, leaking her EM field everywhere.   Then they were stopped by a growling, snarling shadow that dove from the treetops and stood in a protective posture over Hot Rod’s body.

 

            _But before all those things happened in the span of a few short minutes…………_

            “ _Cari!_    Cari’s in trouble!!!”   Novablaze wailed, running into the command room of Sky Lynx’s shuttle form—looking up at Soundwave and Sixshot.

            The two Decepticons looked down at him—the youngling’s full growth spurt had taken hold.  His frame was larger, his colors were bolder and his armour portions had new shapes to them.

            “Are you sure you didn’t have a bad dream in recharge, Nova?   Hot Rod would’ve contacted us if he were in trouble………..” Sixshot said, simply.

            Soundwave immediately tried to contact Hot Rod and came up with a solid communications’ block—one that even he couldn’t get around.   He informed the Decepticon warrior immediately that there was indeed and issue and Sixshot growled in a low tone, getting his weapons ready.   But before he could even say to Novablaze to remain behind with Soundwave—the youngling had dashed out of the command room, exited Sky Lynx and transformed into his alt mode for the first time, a small and sleek little jet.    The sonic boom vibrated the air around the Autobot shuttle mech as Novablaze took off like a shot.

            “The tyke’s _fast_ —I’m going after him.  With his sparkling-carrier bonds, he probably knows _exactly_ where Hot Rod is……….” Sixshot snapped, transforming into his aerial mode and blasting off in pursuit of Novablaze.   He passed Slipstream in flight and gave her a brief glyph message that they were going after Hot Rod and to stay with Soundwave, then the Decepticon warrior opened his thrusters full-throttle and sped up to catch up with the unbelievably fast youngling.

            Novablaze dropped through the trees, transforming back into his primary mode, above Hot Rod’s body—snarling and growling like a ferocious beast.   He leaned over his carrier’s flame-colored frame protectively, snapping his left arm out to reveal a sword, from a subspace pocket.

            “ _Whoa~!_ ”  Dreadwind gasped, pulling back.

            “ _What in the Pit is this_?!”  Darkwing hissed, going into a defensive stance.

            “Don’t touch my carrier………….. _don’t you dare even look at him_!”  Novablaze snarled, in an instant acting just as feral and as dangerous as Galvatron could ever have been.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            “I’m glad to see you again, Hot Rod—although, I wish it were under a more _normal_ set of circumstances than this,” the familiar voice said as a familiar form greeted him.

            The edges of the place were blurred—like all the shapes were vague memories.   Even the one before him, whom he actually remembered, was barely more than a blur of purple and grey, with some barely noticeable smudges of red.

            “ _Ummmm_ ……….. ** _Arrowshot_** , right?   The first one to hold the Matrix?   But………..does that mean I’m in the Matrix _again_?   And how can that be………….when Optimus Prime is alive and holding it right now?”  Hot Rod murmured, wishing his optics would focus up.

            If this _were_ the Matrix’s depths—Hot Rod didn’t remember it being _this blurry_ before.

            “Well, it _is_ and it _isn’t_ the Matrix.   We’re…………more or less _on a bridge_ between the Matrix and the Spark of your firstborn youngling, Novablaze,” Arrowshot chuckled softly, motioning towards a blurry bench for them to sit down upon.   “You recall the report Hook gave you before you left, right?   How Novablaze’s Spark is _beyond all the Sparks that exist_ —on a far different level than even yours and Galvatron’s.   It surges with _both_ the energy of Primus and the power of Unicron………….it may well be the _Spark of a God_.”

            Hot Rod paused to think about what Arrowshot said.   But then he wondered why it was Arrowshot who came to greet him on this “ _bridge_ ” thing………….and not one of the more contemporary holders of the Matrix—like Alpha Trion or Sentinel.   The purple-colored mech laughed, because he could hear Hot Rod’s thoughts—as the environment they were in was something akin to the level of thought and emotion itself.

            “Because………….I _never_ chose the Afterspark,” he laughed.   “I didn’t believe in it.   Many of those that are labeled as _‘Primes’_ and have their program ghosts within the Matrix…………they are actually in the Afterspark, but parts of their essence remain, because of the bond with the Matrix.   So—when the Matrix wants to speak with those holding it, it will often wear the program ghost of a previous bearer that would make them more comfortable.   For _you_ , it was usually Optimus Prime…………for Pax himself, it was usually Alpha Trion.”

            Everything that Hot Rod remembered of learning of Arrowshot was—he was from the military hardware line and planted the seeds of the uprising amongst the Quintessons’ creations.  He stole the Matrix from the Quintessons—as it was their original “ _master key_ ” to Vector Sigma.   Later, other keys to the great master computer of Cybertron were forged—but the Matrix of Leadership was the original key to the great system.    Arrowshot was fatally wounded and handed the Matrix over to A3, who became known later as Alpha Trion………….but A3 never held the Matrix while he led the rebellion—he chose another to bear the Matrix, who then chose another.  It was not until there had been a dozen other bearers of the object that Alpha Trion himself finally held the Matrix until Orion Pax came along and was injured so badly that Alpha Trion rebuilt him into Optimus Prime—also passing the Matrix along to him.

            If you look at it through skewed variations of history—the first bearer of the Matrix was an ancestor of the Decepticons.   Though without the Autobot and Decepticon labels back then, Arrowshot was never called either designation—he was simply Arrowshot, the first leader and bearer of the Matrix.

            Though, _really_ , he was merely a thief and a military commander.  It was such a conundrum—history chose to forget the _specific details_ of Arrowshot and his leadership.   But he was an amiable guy—one of the few who was talkative with Rodimus Prime, on behalf of the Matrix, back when Hot Rod had held it.

            “I’m the only one whose _entire being_ was pulled into the Matrix upon my death—so, in a way it’s a good thing, because I can **_stop_** you right now………….as I am doing at this moment,” Arrowshot laughed.   “The program ghosts _can’t_ do what I’m doing—so, I believe the Matrix predicted this, even before I stole it from the Quints.”

            “ _Stopping me_ …….?   Stopping me from _what_?   **_Dying_** ……?  Because I hate to tell you—I’m _already dead_ ,” Hot Rod answered with a deep groan of regret.

            “That’s right.   **_But_** …………you _can_ be brought back.   **_Only you_** could be brought back, because of all the bonds you’ve forged,” Arrowshot said.   “No other leader…….”

            “ _Not a leader_ …….” Hot Rod mumbled, his anxiety bubbling within him.

            Arrowshot grabbed his chin roughly and it reminded him of the way Galvatron always did so—forcing him to look at the first bearer of the Matrix immediately.

            “ _No other leader_ has ever done as you have,” Arrowshot said, firmly, staring into his optics.  “There are………… _regrets_ …………upon the long-range strategic planning between the Matrix and Vector Sigma—you were **_never_** meant to become broken.   You were meant to become forged to a strength unmatched in any other bearer of the Matrix………..your adversities were _supposed_ to make you stronger, _not_ make you hate yourself.”

            Hot Rod gazed at Arrowshot, puzzled.

            “You were meant to be the _greatest leader_ the Autobots ever had—you were meant to bear the Matrix for millions of years.   You were meant to bring harmony and diversity and civilization to the universe……………and I know you understand the truth of what I’m saying, because even though you fractured and broke—you still tried to do what you were always meant to do.   Even now you still try, though you no longer bear the Matrix,” the first bearer said, letting go of Hot Rod’s chin and then rubbed his helm fondly.   “We got lucky when Galvatron came along—Unicron made a mistake forging that powerful war machine.   Galvatron was able to salvage you—to save you and to try and put you on the right path.   One misstep with Galvatron _could have_ destroyed you as well, but………….Galvatron’s existence kept you from destroying all you were meant to forge.”

            “Are you saying I was _pre-programmed_ to fall in love with him?!   **_That’s_** ……….” Hot Rod cried, his anxiety peaking.

            “ _Tch_ , Galvatron’s right—you get your mind in a rut and can’t break out of it.   Take a look at _this_ ………” Arrowshot said, softly, bringing his servos up.  Even though the world around was still blurry, Hot Rod could very clearly see there was a string wound intricately through his fingers.   “You have been woven into the fabric of the universe—all the points where the string touches itself are choices you made.  Do you see how they branch?   You _could have made_ many choices along the course of your life, but **_this_** is the one you chose………..” he said, making a strange motion and suddenly the string became a straight line with a couple knots in it in various places.   “Yes, there are a few bumps in your life-road………….but it’s straight and honest and true.”

            “So, I _really did_ choose Galvatron because………….. _I love him_?   Not because it was pre-destined?”  Hot Rod asked, desperation in his vocalizer.   “And _he_ ……….?”

            “ _He_ chose you as well,” Arrowshot chuckled.  “He’s a _good match_ for you.   And………….he’s going to be infuriated that you’ve put him through a broken Spark-bond right now, you know.”

            All of the sudden, Hot Rod slapped a palm over his mouth…………….Primus!   He’d forgotten _that_ ………….Galvatron would feel him die.   All he could suddenly think was……….. _‘Don’t let him rage and ravage the universe—not **for** me, **not over me**!’_    He sincerely hoped that Galvatron could stay calm enough to get through it.

            “You said…………I had a chance to be brought back.   What do I have to do?”   Hot Rod asked.   Stormbreaker needed him……….Novablaze needed him…………even Galvatron _probably_ needed him.

            And Cyclonus would curse his name forever if he died and left Galvatron in the state that he was probably in right now.  Hot Rod really couldn’t do that to poor, always suffering Cyclonus.

            “There will come a time…………when you need to take the Matrix again—you are the bearer it needs to forge the new ways.   Let Optimus Prime fill it—he’s good at drawing others together, at pooling the power and knowledge needed to fill the Matrix.   Right now—the Matrix can send its power through Novablaze and reignite your Spark,” the first bearer said, smiling at Hot Rod.   “Novablaze has a **_God Spark_** —he can handle more power than you even realize.  And while he will do great things one day—and prove that Galvatron was the _right choice_ for you to make—the universe needs Hot Rod…………..the universe _will need_ Rodimus Prime.   Believe in yourself and all that you are meant to do.   Believe in your bonds.   Believe in the ones who cherish you.”

            Hot Rod stood up, motivated—and began running in the opposite direction of the light.

            “ _Believe in life_!”   Arrowshot called after him—his familiar voice fading as the blurry environment began fading to grey and eventually black.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            Galvatron awoke to find himself in very familiar surroundings.   This was his berth— _his berthroom_ — ** _on Chaar_**.   How…………..had he gotten here?   Last he recalled he was on Cybertron and the Autobots CMO was re-attaching his leg—then there was a massive pain in his Spark and……..?

            _He passed out?_

            That was **_impossible_** , he was Galvatron—and such things were for weaklings!

            But wait, the pain in his Spark……….. _that was_ ……….?

            Galvatron placed a servo on his chest and shuttered his optics, concentrating.   It was weak, but it was _still there_ —a mere strand of what it had been before, but he still felt a Spark-bond with his precious Prime.   **_So_** ……….Hot Rod was _not dead_ after all, but that pain—that extreme and excessive pain which knocked even the powerful Emperor of the Decepticons out of commission for……..

            _Wait…….how long **had** it been?_

            Then two mechs came in the room, talking in low voices.   Hook and the Autobots’ CMO, First Aid.   They looked towards the berth and saw that Galvatron was conscious and sitting up and were instantly berthside with concern and excitement.   _Only medics_ could be excited over possible injuries and recovery from them!

            “How long?”  Galvatron grunted, laying a servo on his leg joint and finding everything was normal—his healing nanites worked hard while he was unconscious.

            “About six hours,” Hook responded, quickly.

            “ _Good._   Then my internal chronometer is functioning normally,” the purple-and-grey mech responded, his voice even and neutral.   “Now, why are the two of you hovering over me like I am an invalid?”   He growled, glaring at the both of them.

            “The Spark-bond?   We can’t contact Sky Lynx or Hot Rod or anyone………is he alright?”  First Aid asked, anxiously.

            “It has not been completely severed.  _He is not dead_.  Now I **_demand_** that you quit worrying for me and allow me to get up, so that I may prepare to go rescue him from whatever mess he has gotten into,” Galvatron snapped, moving to swing his legs over the side of the berth and push them both away.

            Both of them held him down—though if Galvatron used only part of his power, they couldn’t actually stop him from getting up from the berth.

            “Not yet, my lord—please, let us try some more to get in contact with them,” Hook said, his vocalizer desperate in its tone.  “Ultra Magnus is trying to initiate contact every five minutes.”

            “Ultra Magnus is here on Chaar?”  Galvatron asked in surprise.

            “No, he’s still on Cybertron—but we’re staying in constant contact with him,” First Aid said, quickly.  “If Starscream realizes what’s happened, he might try to attack somewhere again—just to take advantage of the situation.   Your great power may be needed to hold his forces back.”

            “ _Nnngh_.   Yes, that is likely a correct assumption.  But I refuse to remain in this berth when I am _perfectly fine_ ,” Galvatron growled, pushing the two medics back from him.  “I need to get exercise on my leg, to ensure the nanites have completed their healing process.”

            “Of course, Lord Galvatron—just **_please_** , don’t go rushing off after him when you don’t know where he is!”  First Aid said firmly.

            Galvatron got up and left the room.   He grabbed Cyclonus by one of the horns on his helm and dragged his loyal lieutenant to the throne room.   He threw the slightly smaller purple-and-grey mech into his throne and loomed over him.   Cyclonus looked up at Galvatron expectantly as his lord and lover leaned down and kissed him hard—making his engine upshift and his system exvent rapidly.

            “You need me, my Emperor?”  Cyclonus asked in a low voice.

            “ _Later_.   The medics are on my case not to go after my Prime, what is it you think?”  Galvatron whispered, nuzzling Cyclonus’ neck-cabling and biting just enough to draw a few drops of glowing pink lifeblood.

            Cyclonus paused.  It was clear Galvatron was ready to circumvent what the medics said, but his lord asked him for his thoughts.   It was time to face the truth of how he felt about the situation between himself, Hot Rod and Galvatron.

            “My lord………. _personally_ , I do not care what happens to him.   If he is here, fine—if he is gone, it is also fine.   But I care about his condition _because you do so_.   He is my rival and my equal in the berth with you……..and yet, he holds _more of your Spark_ than I do, my lord—and I am **_jealous_** of that,” the purple-and-grey mech whispered as Galvatron bit harder at his neck-cabling and he whimpered softly as his systems began heating up rapidly.

            “Do you know why I do not Spark-bond with you as often as I do with him, Cyclonus?”  The Decepticon Leader murmured, pressing himself against his lieutenant’s willing frame.

            Cyclonus shook his head, unable to answer with words.  “Is it because of his insecurities?”  The mech finally said in a very quiet tone, clawed servos gripping at Galvatron’s heavy-gauntleted forearms.

            “ _Good._    You **_do_** understand,” the Emperor of the Decepticons purred.  “ _You_ do not need my support as much as he does.   But you are _both_ equally mine—and equally important to me.”   Galvatron skimmed his sharp denta against Cyclonus’ jawline.   “I take _no others_ to the berth anymore, because I have you and I have my Prime—you _both_ serve my desires far more than any others ever have.   You are both important to me and to my future.   _He_ has not gained his courage and fire back yet, while I know _you_ are strong and able to stand on your own.   One day, when he has found more courage in himself and can stand as strong as you—I wish to _have you both_ in the berth with me………….because that fire will be a supernova of pleasure for all of us.”

            “I understand, my lord,” Cyclonus whispered.   Maybe he truly did understand for the first time.   He and Hot Rod should never hold a rivalry over Galvatron’s attentions—they both had the Decepticon Leader’s best interests in their Sparks.   They both cherished Galvatron more than anything else in the universe.   _They were the same…….._

            “ _Open_ ,” Galvatron demanded as he let his spike free and it pressurized to full.

            “Yes, my lord,” Cyclonus moaned as he opened his valve panel and he clutched at Galvatron’s massive frame as the large black spike penetrated him.

            There were no more words for the next ten minutes—only primal grunting and moaning.  Cyclonus mewled with ecstasy as he overloaded, digging his clawed servos into Galvatron’s waist derma.   Galvatron smiled, pleased with himself and with Cyclonus’ pleasure—which reverberated through his own frame through their bonds, both the Spark-bond and the bond they shared as mechs reformatted by Unicron.

            “I am going after my Prime, regardless of what the medics think,” Galvatron murmured to Cyclonus, nibbling at the neck-cabling again and opening the previous wounds to lick at the lifeblood more.  “I will leave _you_ in charge here—if Starscream makes a move, make the best decision.  Remember, _for now_ ………….we assist the Autobots for my Prime’s benefit, regardless of personal feelings on either side.   _We shall not be the ones to dissolve the accords_.  We will prove that the Decepticons are great and perfect, correct?”

            “Of course, my lord,” Cyclonus chuckled softly.  “I wish you a swift journey,” he added as Galvatron strode regally out of the throne room.   The sonic boom of his thrusters made the palace walls rattle and the massive EM field slowly slipped away from the area.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            “Don’t touch my carrier………….. _don’t you dare even look at him_!”  Novablaze snarled, in an instant acting just as feral and as dangerous as Galvatron could ever have been.   He held the sword from his subspace compartment in defense in front of him as he crouched above Hot Rod’s body.

            “ _Nova!_    What’s…………?  _Ah_ , then…….” Sixshot said, dropping through the trees and transforming into his primary mode.  He pulled his sword from the subspace pocket over his shoulders and rushed forwards to slam Darkwing away. 

            Dreadwind growled and turned to aim his rifle at Sixshot when suddenly a quick burst of rifle fire knocked his own rifle from his servos.  He turned to see a dark grey and light grey frame rushing towards him—and was swiftly laid out with one punch.

            “You’re certainly a sight for old optics, Deadlock,” Sixshot said with a wry laugh, dropping the unconscious body of Darkwing on top of the unconscious Dreadwind.   “Still with that scar?”  He asked, pointing to the bounty hunter’s Decepticon brand.

            “ _Meh_ ,” Deadlock said with a grunt, hitching his twin rifles to the clamps on his back.   He gave an all-clear gesture to Star Saber as his Autobot hunting partner landed.  “Should we share the bounty with them?”  He asked of the tall, red-and-blue Autobot.

            “ _Don’t need it_ ,” Sixshot said, walking past them over to Hot Rod.   Novablaze growled at him and held the sword out in defense.   “Easy Novablaze—it’s **_me_**.   You remember _old Sixshot_ , right?”  He murmured.   “Can I look at Hot Rod and see if I can help him?”  He asked, gently holding his servos up in a peaceful gesture.

            “ ** _Oh_** …… _uh_ , sorry……..I was just………” Novablaze murmured, embarrassed as he seemed to come back to his senses.  Then he looked at the short sword in his servo with surprise.  “I……..have _this_?”  He whispered, then sensing the link to the subspace pocket in his forearm.   With instinctive knowledge, he put the sword back in his subspace pocket.  “Cari is……….. _cari’s_ ………” the youngling said, with a sniffle, trying to hold back tears.

            “It’s all right, little one—can you send your field to Stormbreaker?   She’s _really scared_ , she wants something familiar—and who would be better than her brother, _mmm_?”  Sixshot said as Novablaze stood up straight and moved aside from the flame-colored mech’s still body.

            “ _’Kay_ ,” the mechling responded softly, sending waves of love and reassurance to Stormbreaker, trapped within the curled-up frame of their carrier.   He felt her small field reach out for him desperately, as if reaching for his servo or for a hug of comfort.   “It’s okay, Stormy— _it’ll be okay_ ………..” Novablaze said, his deeper new voice sounding strange, even to him.

            Sixshot used his various sensor scanners and found a trace spin to Hot Rod’s Spark.   It _was_ spinning—slowly, _so very slowly_ —but it **_was_** spinning within its casing.  _That meant Hot Rod was alive_.   “I’m going to do a diagnostic on his systems—I just hope your sire doesn’t kill me, Nova,” he chuckled, thumbing open the hip-panel of the flame-colored mech that was raised up in the tight fetal curl the body was in.

            Hot Rod’s defenses and firewalls were completely obliterated—his systems were offline and stripped of _all protections_.   It was a good thing Sixshot knew what he was doing to get in and out without leaving much trace on the younger mech’s systems…….or else Galvatron probably really would kill him.   The old Decepticon warrior found the system reboot command lines and issued a reboot request to Hot Rod’s systems.  

            The response was immediate and Sixshot snapped his connection cable out in a flash, he was _not_ even going to push lingering a microsecond longer than he absolutely should.   Hot Rod groaned and his optics glowed dimly—then glowed with more intensity as he came online.

            “ _Nnngh_ ………body stuck,” he whispered, static filling most of those words.  “Joints frozen,” he added, sighing.

            “Give yourself a few moments to come fully back online, Hot Rod,” Sixshot said as he felt the joy in the field of the two younglings around Hot Rod’s frame.   “We thought we lost you,” the old warrior added, reaching over to lightly rub Hot Rod’s helm.

            Hot Rod didn’t bother answering that he was actually dead—for a short time.   But he knew he’d have to answer to Galvatron on _that matter_.   He felt the fields of his and Galvatron’s children—and Sixshot’s familiar field.  And there were two tightly-held fields nearby.   _He was alive_ —that was important.   **_The_** most important thing right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda draw on the idea here from the Japanese "The Headmasters" series.......where they reinstate Hot Rod as Rodimus Prime again--so, I put in the theory that someday he will once again carry the Matrix and be Rodimus Prime. :)


	4. The Bonds Forged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galvatron lectures Hot Rod on nearly dying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who haven't read my "Star Voyager" series--I'll add this character note here as well, explaining why I'm using the Japanese reading of a name over the transliterated version. Katakana is used to represent "foreign" words in Japanese--and if you've watched or read a good variety of Japanese things, you probably realize they like to throw in a lot of foreign words. While most of the time it's English--it isn't always English, it can be French or Spanish or any foreign language, really!
> 
> I'm actually pretty decent at reading/transliterating katakana--though I'm far from 100% accuracy. I'll say I tend to be 90% accurate in my reading it. :)
> 
> So, Deszaras...........or as commonly gets transliterated as "Deathsaurus". which can be a legitimate reading of the katakana. I saw on a TF wiki that there was a big argument against Deathsaurus as a translation of the katakana for Deszaras' name...........and frankly I DO agree with what they say. After all, how does a mech that transforms into a MONSTER BIRD get translated as some kind of lizard in the name, right? Well, maybe they're gambling on a Dinosaur name.......! Now, IDW's version may make sense, as they gave him a dragon form for alt mode..........but I have to wonder if the name is a takeoff on some mythological creature from some religion--his alt mode is actually closer to Rodan than a dragon. I don't have the time to look it up and research it before using it.............so I'm sticking with Deszaras until I know more information. *chuckle*

**_ Chapter Four:   The Bonds Forged _ **

 

            Everyone had gone back to the clearing where Sky Lynx was waiting for them, in his merged primary form—he was crouched like a giant cat ready to pounce when the group came back with four extra individuals that they hadn’t been expecting.

            “It’s all right—these four are okay.   Well, _two of them_ at any rate,” Sixshot said quickly, to alleviate the giant shuttle-mech’s worry.   “Deadlock…………..Star Saber.   Bounty hunters out to catch the two we were worried about,” he introduced, pointing to each of the mechs in turn.

            All of the sudden a massive EM field washed over the area.

            “ ** _Pit_** ………… _he’s here_ ,” Sixshot mumbled.

            “I should’ve probably _stayed dead_ …………” Hot Rod whispered.

            “ ** _Sire_**!”   Novablaze gasped, excitedly.

            “What in the……..?!”  Deadlock growled, grabbing for his weapons, while Star Saber had his Saber Blade out instantly, ready for anything.

            At least Galvatron had the decency to land several yards away and _not_ trigger an unintentional battle with the bounty hunters, who were utterly freaked out.   As soon as all optics focused on him, he pointed directly at Hot Rod…………crooked his forefinger in a “ _come here_ ” gesture………….and then pointed at the space directly in front of him.

 

**|You.   Alone.   Leave the spawn.|**

 

            Hot Rod opened his mouth as if to protest.

 

**|Now, Hot Rod.   Stop dawdling.|**

 

            The flame-colored mech ducked his head shamefully—this was one time when he _wasn’t_ very happy to hear Galvatron even glyph-message him by his designation—and then knelt next to Novablaze.  “Your sire wants to see me, alone.   Can I leave Storm with you, Nova?”  He asked, softly, reaching back to unfasten the sling from his shoulder. 

            Stormbreaker began whimpering and reached her tiny clawed servos towards Hot Rod.

            “I’ll take care of her, cari,” Novablaze responded, holding his arms out as Hot Rod wrapped the femmeling in the sling and then placed her carefully in the young mechling’s arms.

            “Should I get ready to come get you if Galvatron loses it?”  Springer asked, softly.

            “ _No_.   It really _is_ my fault—Galvatron wants to hear me apologize out of my own vocalizer,” the flame-colored mech said with a soft sigh.

            “Please let him know, I _only_ entered your systems to get you conscious—I _really_ don’t want to die, Prime,” Sixshot chuckled, but his statement was half serious and he was nervous about Galvatron finding out he plugged into Hot Rod’s systems whatsoever.

            “I’ll make sure he doesn’t punish you,” Hot Rod chuckled softly.   Then he braced himself, incycling and exventing rapidly as he walked over to where Galvatron was standing.  “Are you all right, my lord?”  He asked, shyly looking up into Galvatron’s faceplate.   His lover had an emotionless expression, so he couldn’t tell what Galvatron was feeling—his field was neutral, but strong and powerful.

            “Explain what happened,” Galvatron said, smoothly, reaching servos out to grab Hot Rod’s hips and yank him close.

            “It’s _complicated_.   I don’t like data-‘facing in public, but…………can I just _show you_?”  Hot Rod murmured, tilting his head to stare up into Galvatron’s faceplate.   “And Sixshot **_only_** rebooted my systems—don’t be mad at finding traces of him in there, okay?”

            “Very well,” the Decepticon Leader grunted, taking his connectors and placing them firmly into Hot Rod’s open hip-ports.

            Hot Rod wrapped his arms around Galvatron and snuggled into the mech he loved.

            “Gah………..you have _no firewalls or protections_ left,” Galvatron muttered, searching through formats and protocols to get Hot Rod’s system protections to come back up, via his master command codes.   “I swear, I need to teach you how to maintain your own systems, Prime………..” he sighed, reaching a servo up to rub the smaller mech’s helm.

            Then Galvatron came upon Hot Rod’s memories of the combat with Darkwing and Dreadwind—running out of charge and choosing to protect Stormbreaker with his own body.   And the strange experience that happened after that—with the former leader from the Matrix—the conversation and everything that came out of it.

            Galvatron tilted his head, curiously, disconnecting and thumbing closed Hot Rod’s hip-ports.  He reached down to grab the flame-colored mech’s chin curiously.

            “Is this **_true_**?   You shall gain your true power back one day soon?”  The Emperor of the Decepticons asked, his voice low and excited.

            “ _Maybe_.  It looks like it.   But…………… _ummmmmm_ ……………..what if it means I have to leave Chaar and…………..?” Hot Rod whispered.

            “You and I made such a relationship work once before—we _will_ be able to make it work again.   I have always told you that you were important to this universe, now another has told you so—a mech with far more knowledge of past and future than I,” Galvatron responded.  “Will you _finally_ stop your self-destructive and self-hatred behaviors and become as strong as I **_know_** you can be?”  He asked, staring deep into Hot Rod’s optics.

            “ _I’ll_ ……….I’ll try a lot harder, I _promise_ …………” the flame-colored mech whispered, desperate for Galvatron’s support, more than anything else in this universe.

            “Very well.   _Open_ ,” Galvatron chuckled, purring in the littler mech’s audial hungrily.

            “ _Galvatron!_    **_No!_**    **_Seriously!_**    _Not out here and in front of the kids!_ ”   Hot Rod said, sharply, his voice both full of laughter and complete embarrassment.

            “Always so _prudish_ , Prime,” Galvatron chortled, hefting the flame-colored mech into his arms and flying off into the air to find a more suitable spot away from the audience—just to calm his little Prime down.   He was polite enough to glyph Soundwave to tell everyone to relax and go about their own little lives for a couple of hours.   The Decepticon Leader found a suitable little meadow and detected nothing more than general wildlife in the vicinity—telling Hot Rod this would suit their purposes at the moment.

            “I don’t know why I give in to you when you just want to out-and-out frag in front of the entire population of planets.  _Seriously_.  **_Berthroom_** ……….I like those and I know you do, too!”  Hot Rod protested as Galvatron literally dropped him onto the grass and was on top of him in moments.

            “Because I am **_amazing_** and you have this weird thing called _‘love’_ for me, that is why!”  Galvatron laughed, going directly for his neck-cabling.

            “ _Okay_.  Yes, that’s true, but………….” Hot Rod murmured, his engine revving hard—showing him that he really wanted this as much as Galvatron.

            “Open your chest plate—we need to fix up this unraveled bond of ours,” Galvatron ordered, pulling back enough to open up his chestplate first.

            “ _Uhhhhhh_ …………. _wait_.   **_Waitwaitwaitwait_**!!!”   Hot Rod protested as he waved his servos in front of him, but he still stared at Galvatron’s fiery, crimson Spark.   “ _I_ ………….I could get sparked-up again……..you know, _this_ is what does it!   _Fragging and Spark-bonding at the same time_!”   He squealed, trying to decide if he actually wanted or didn’t really want that.

            “Yes, yes.  _I know_.   But we will _not_ go that far,” Galvatron chuckled.   “We already _have a bond_ , we simply need to build it back up—we _do not need to merge_ , we just need to keep sharing Sparklight to build it back up.  Do not panic so fiercely, my little Prime,” he laughed.   “If there comes a time when you would like to bear me more spawn, we will plan better for such a moment.  For now, we will frag and share Sparklight—you _cannot_ get sparked-up from mere Sparklight,” the Emperor of the Decepticons responded, grinning excitedly down at the flame-colored mech.

            “ _Umm_ ………okay,” Hot Rod murmured, mollified, and he opened up his chestplate.

            “ ** _My treasure_** ,” Galvatron said, softly, leaning forwards so that the tendrils of light flaring out of the open irises of their spark-casings could reach for each other and wrap around one another, twining.

            “ ** _Oh_** ………. _oh frag_ …………..” Hot Rod moaned, his array panels snapping open as the familiarity of Galvatron’s Sparklight sent his sex-drive into absolute overdrive.   “ ** _Galvatrrrrrrroooooooooooon_**!!!”  The flame-colored mech groaned as he felt his lover’s spike pressurize and delve directly into his soaking valve.

            Hot Rod overloaded three times before Galvatron finally surrendered to his pleasure and filled the eager valve with transfluid and charge.

            “ _Satisfied_?”  The grey-and-purple mech chuckled, nuzzling the bleeding neck cables and licking at them leisurely.

            “ _Yeah_.  You?”  Hot Rod murmured, still dazed from his triple-overload.

            “For now, Prime,” the Decepticon Leader laughed, pulling to his pedes and scooping Hot Rod up.   He took them over to a lake he’d seen nearby and got them both cleaned up, pulling a towel from a subspace compartment.   Then he took Hot Rod back to the location of where Sky Lynx was.

            Everyone was still standing around outside, except that Star Saber, Deadlock and their bounties were gone now.   Sky Lynx was back in his shuttle mode.   Everyone was also far more relaxed than when Galvatron arrived with his field washing over them like an ocean of neutral emotions and sense of domination.

            “ _Sire!   Sire!_ ”   Novablaze said, excitedly, trembling with excitement, but not jumping up-and-down because he had Stormbreaker in his arms.   “Sire…………look at my _new frame_!”   He cried, gazing eagerly up at Galvatron.

            Galvatron squatted down and was about eye level with his oldest youngling now.   “Your armour and derma looks positively splendid, my Novablaze,” the Emperor of the Decepticons said, grinning excitedly.   “I _told you_ that you would grow strong—so that you can protect all you treasure,” he added, placing a servo lightly on his oldest spawn’s shoulder.

            “ _Thank you, sire!_ ”  Novablaze gushed, happily.

            Then the Decepticon Leader rose to his pedes.   “Allow me to hold my Stormbreaker for a few moments, as well,” he said, firmly.   Novablaze held the wrapped bundle out and Galvatron carefully reached down to grab her around the nape of her neck, pulling her out of the fabric of the sling, and set her down in the crook of his arm, as was usual for him.   She babbled a little bit and looked around, obviously looking for Hot Rod………she saw him on the other side of Galvatron and made grabby hands towards her carrier.

            “What is wrong, my Stormbreaker?”  Galvatron murmured, puzzled that she was reaching so much for Hot Rod and did not seem to be satisfied that her sire was holding her—as she usually was.

            “I think she’s freaked out over what happened,” Hot Rod murmured, moving into her line of sight and gently rubbed her helm.   She reached up and grabbed his finger, holding on to it as tightly as she could, whimpering softly.

            “Can you blame her?   I was ready to tear the universe apart, myself.  I _never_ wish you to get into a situation like this again,” Galvatron snapped, softly.

            “Galvatron, I _can’t_ control the universe—you know that.   I’ll do my best, but I can’t make an absolute one-hundred percent guarantee,” Hot Rod said, looking up into his lover’s faceplate.  “What are you going to do now?   Go back to Chaar?”  He asked, softly.

            “ _I must_.   There are issues to be dealt with,” the Decepticon Leader responded with a soft sigh.  “There is a femme who came in from the frontier while you were gone—I _do not trust her_ and I believe she has been stirring up trouble, as well as asking far too many security types of questions about the embassy.   Starscream also recently staged an assault on Cybertron, but with the assistance of my Decepticons……….we drove him away.  I do not trust him not to try again soon enough,” he added, finally handing the anxious little femme to Hot Rod—where she settled down instantly against his chest, snuggling happily.   “ _Pfft_.   She is **_exactly_** like you, my little Prime,” he chuckled, recognizing the snuggling as what Hot Rod always did with him.

            “ _Yeah_.   And………got it,” Hot Rod responded and smiled.

            “Lord Galvatron…………..this is Slipstream and Metalhawk,” Sixshot introduced, as he saw his leader glance in their direction.  “Fangry is still recovering and he’ll need to see a medic when we return to Chaar.”

            “Lord Galvatron,” Slipstream said, humbly, bowing in the formal manner she was taught at the sanctuary.   She was nervous when he approached, even though he kept his field as tight and neutral as possible.

            “Seeker design?”  He inquired, recognizing the familiar shape, reminiscent of Starscream……….and others he knew, once, a long time ago.

            “Of the design.  My trine were _hunters_ —we pursued prey on the orders of Megatron,” she responded, keeping her head ducked, shyly.

            “ ** _Ah_**.  I can _appreciate_ a good hunter,” Galvatron chuckled.  Then he gave a polite dip of his head at the Autobot, Metalhawk.  “Please try to keep my Prime out of trouble—as you can see, it is quite difficult for him to avoid it, apparently.”

            “We shall _try_ , Lord Galvatron,” Slipstream said, softly.   But she chuckled softly to herself…………everything Hot Rod told her was true.   He was a ridiculously powerful and demanding mech, but the things he chose to protect—he would destroy the universe to do so.

            “Now, then……………Prime, I am off.  Please continue sending me updates upon the progress you make in searching for others.   And………just as a mild suggestion—you should plan to return to Chaar soon, yourself,” Galvatron said, walking back over to Hot Rod.   “I am concerned over the ones you fought—as they wore Starscream’s mockery of a brand.   The fact that they lured you and they _targeted you_ means that Starscream knows you’re out here.   I suggest that you check a couple more worlds and then return home, for a break—and to plan another excursion later.”

            “Yeah, I got it, Galvatron,” Hot Rod said with a sigh.

            Galvatron grabbed his chin in his tenderly-rough manner and leaned down to kiss him.   Everyone around them thought it was sweet, until it went on for longer than a minute and they all began shuffling their pedes and getting uncomfortable as the kiss went from a chaste “ _good-bye kiss_ ” to a deep-and-wet “ _let’s get to it kiss_ ”.

            “Stay out of trouble, my little Prime,” Galvatron warned once more, then he strode off a short distance and took off.   The rumble and the blowback of the sonic boom rocked everyone on their pedes.

            “Later…………..you _fragging, loveable maniac_ ,” Hot Rod chuckled softly.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            Starscream sat around gloomily in the lab, spinning around in his chair like a child and staring at the ceiling.

            “You’ve been in this mood since we returned from Cybertron—have you finally lost the drive for this war we started?”  Raj-Ur-Malekk asked, a small bit of concern for his business partner and co-leader of the Destrons.

            “ _Nooooooooooooo_ ………..” the red-blue-grey mech mumbled, listlessly.   “Just……….I _shouldn’t_ have faced Galvatron.  I _knew_ I’d lose—I just _never_ win against him.  Even when I have the upper hand, fate just isn’t in my corner.”

            “Fate is _only_ a statistic, a probability………..we just need to evaluate the variables again,” the Quintesson biologist said, using one of his tentacle arms to pat the top of Starscream’s helm as he hovered past.   “ _Eventually_ the variables will come out in our favor—you just must be patient, as you said you would be.”

            “ _I know_ ,” Starscream moaned, spinning around some more.  “At least Flamewar is stirring up a bit of trouble, but her main goal is to gather information.  We need the information far more, than to just stir up bad feelings on Chaar.”

            “Looking at it, there seems to be so little security anywhere in the habituated areas—I suppose the military hardware line thinks that they’re _all_ part of an embedded security,” the Quintesson chuckled.   “This _may_ work to our advantage.   She told us that they’re building an entertainment district—and _that_ may be a good place to strike.”

            “According to the information Squawktalk brought back to us from Flamewar—that’s not supposed to be completed until _next year_ , though,” Starscream said, stopping his chair from spinning and sitting up straight, to look over at his partner who was tinkering with a device.  “Then again, I _shouldn’t_ be in a rush, right?”

            “ _Correct_ ,” Raj-ur-Malekk chuckled.   “Security will be at a focus for the grand opening—meaning their actual main forces will be thinner through the habitation areas and the palace……..as well as at the embassy.   As I understand it, it sounds as if this Rodimus-Hot Rod would like to invite the Autobots to this, as well…………. _they_ would not thin out their security on any of their base locations, but odds are they would send at least one or two of their higher-ranked figures to this grand opening.  What we should do is shore up our forces and start delineating tasks for this upcoming invasion.  After all……..we _have the time_ to evaluate all the variables and try to predict the best outcome.”

            “That’s true…………..and _if_ we can take out a couple high-ranking Autobots in the process, it’s even better,” Starscream chuckled, rising to his pedes.  “If only Darkwing and Dreadwind hadn’t failed—they let their guard down.   They _had_ Hot Rod………….they had him _practically dead_.   We need to stop doing the _‘villain’s monologue’_ thing—we leave ourselves open for a counterattack.”

            “But the monologues are _so much fun_ , Starscream!”  Raj-ur-Malekk chuckled—trying to make a joke, even though he rarely had the opportunity for humour in his lifetime.   “Actually, _that_ is also a statistical factor, as well—it’s in all living nature to _‘brag’_ when they have the upper hand in a situation.”

            “ _Urgh_ , how do we keep from bragging and not just outright kill them all!?”  Starscream groaned, walking over to look at what his Quintesson partner was tinkering with.  “What’s this?”   He asked, curiously.

            “A little plaything,” Raj-ur-Malekk chuckled.   “It’s a sensor array—not unlike what you Cybertronians have in your bodies, just that this is a model of a sensor array in a nice and neat little package.”

            Starscream facepalmed himself and groaned.  “Need I ask, _why_?”  He responded.

            “To see _how much_ torture a sensor array can handle.   I’ve gotten lots of good data from our willing— _and unwilling_ —subjects on the interface array, but that is merely a _fraction_ of the Cybertronian sensor net,” the Quintesson biologist said with a hearty little laugh.   “I must say—you’ve all evolved and developed beyond what the original designs and blueprints wanted.   You were all supposed to be _simple_ , with an A.I. that would allow you to make decisions on your own, when necessary—even the valve-spike newmech production format was supposed to be pretty cut-and-dried simple.”

            “ _How old are you_ , **_seriously_**?”  Starscream gasped.   “Dare I ask where you got the sensor net from for your model array?”   He grumbled, softly.

            “I worked on…………. _eh_ , like the second run of the models back on Cybertron.   I really don’t keep track of time anymore—it all starts looking the same after a million years or so, things repeat and all that.   Clearly our computer’s A.I. did a lot of adapting and evolution on your frames over the millennia,” Raj-ur-Malekk answered.   “And it came from that one mech, who _‘died’_ after he got here……” he responded, softly.

            “ ** _Ah_**.  _Yeah_.   Apparently there are some people who like to play just a little too roughly with the newbies,” the old Seeker sighed.   “If it means anything—I _really_ enjoy the craftsmanship you put into Leozak and the others you made.   It’s far superior to a lot of the natural-born Cybertronians.”

            “Yes, but as I’m learning—there _are_ things I left out of them, which I think would be better for them to have,” the Quintesson biologist responded.   “And it’s too expensive to make new soldiers like that anymore.  I don’t cry over money, as most of our species does, but………….the crystals needed for a _true Spark-ignition_ are highly priced, even for someone with funds like mine.  The other materials aren’t so much of a pain, just the crystals for Sparks.”

            “ _How does_ …………..then how does Vector Sigma make new Sparks?”   Starscream asked, curiously.

            “That’s a good question.  I am honestly surprised none of your species has ever asked it before.   Unless Cybertron’s core keeps creating new crystal, it _should’ve been_ fully harvested long before now—given the amount of Cybertronians spawned in that time since we had been there,” Raj-ur-Malekk murmured.   “The core of the planet is a giant crystal.   Most of the other planets have mineral cores, but as Cybertron doesn’t have much gravity and atmosphere—the crystalline core doesn’t need to work as hard as a mineral core of a planet.   Maybe it needed to keep being harvested, to prevent the core from growing and ruining Cybertron as a planet…..?”   He trailed off, wondering about it now.

            “Interesting—so our race is basically an _adaptive necessity_ for Cybertron’s continuing perpetuity,” Starscream chuckled, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.   “ _A symbiotic relationship_.   It makes a lot of sense, looked at it from that way.”   Then the Destron commander pulled away from the counter and started walking towards the door.   “I’m going to go hunting down a frag-buddy for tonight………..anything you need from me before then?”  He asked, curiously.

            “I think I’m fine for the evening………I’m going to work on more testing of the sensor net and see if I can retro-fit the others with a newer model later on.   Leozak has been a hard worker and keeps his fellows in line—except Hellbat pushes the line too often—they _deserve_ an upgrade if I can give it to them,” the Quintesson biologist responded, waving the device absently.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            “You’re back,” Deszaras said with a grunt as he heaved himself out from under the console.  “Any success with the bounties?”   He asked, standing up and looking at Star Saber and Deadlock.

            “Yeah, we got some creds,” Star Saber chuckled.   “But we’ve found out something _interesting_ —apparently all those rumours we’ve heard are really true………the ceasefire accords are **_real_** , the Autobots and Decepticons are no longer locked in combat against each other.   Sounds like the current Decepticon Leader has enough trouble to chase—including Starscream.”

            “I didn’t expect someone like Galvatron, to tell the truth,” Deadlock added.   “His field is _insane_ , even reined in!”

            “That’s good to know.   How are the relations, then……….between the factions?”  Deszaras inquired as the three of them walked down to the common room to refuel together.

            “Not quite treacherous, but _not_ lovey-dovey,” the old Autobot hero chuckled.

            “Unless you count relations between Galvatron and Hot Rod,” Deadlock added, hiding a grin as he took a deep swig of Energon from the canister.  “ ** _Wow_**.   _Those two_.  **_Seriously_**.   I think Galvatron was ready to frag him senseless right there in front of us.”

            “It sure _looked_ like it,” Star Saber laughed.   “It seems like Hot Rod has a good, if weird, relationship with him—Galvatron abandoned everything else to come and make sure the kid was still alive.”

            “We _did_ get this.   And a communications’ code from Soundwave,” the grey-colored mech said, handing a datapad over to Deszaras.    The blue and silver mech played Hot Rod’s greeting message and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.   “What do you think, Des?”  Deadlock asked, a little puzzled by the look on his commanding officer’s faceplate.

            “We’ve been wandering aimlessly around the fringes in the _Thunder Arrow_ ……..finding bounties just to keep funds to keep going………..” the old Decepticon officer murmured.   “Maybe what we need is _more of a focus_ than simply turning in bounties to the Galactic Alliance…………..”

            “What do you mean, Des?”  Star Saber asked, leaning against a palm and sipping at his canister of Energon.

            “This youth _isn’t_ wrong in what he is doing—he’s trying to find the lost from the war.  He probably doesn’t realize how feral and self-centered many have become left on their own……….and if Starscream is targeting him, he’d very much in danger to be out here,” Deszaras said, firmly.   “Even though we’re just three mechs—we’re all strong and we’re all survivors.   Let’s help this Hot Rod out with his mission and pick up when he must go back to Chaar to recover.”

            The old Decepticon got up and went back to the bridge of the _Thunder Arrow_ and used the communications code to contact Soundwave—asking if there was a chance to speak with Hot Rod.   Soundwave was surprised to receive the message from Deszaras—remembering him to be one of Megatron’s strongest commanders to be sent to the frontier.   In about five minutes, he was speaking to Hot Rod via a communications screen.

            “Greetings, Hot Rod—a couple of my associates that you just met showed me the datapad your crew gave them,” Deszaras said, giving a polite dip of his shoulders.  He saw the anxiety on the younger mech’s faceplate.  “Not those idiots—the other two, Star Saber and Deadlock,” he chuckled, realizing the flame-colored mech’s thoughts must’ve gone straight to the Destrons who’d tried to kill him, rather than the mercenaries that turned them in.   “My name is Deszaras, Captain of the _Thunder Arrow_ and Commander of the Negare Strike Unit.   I’ve lost most of my unit, except Deadlock—and Star Saber was my rival whom I’ve forged a peace contract with.   We’ve been going around as bounty hunters just to survive, however…………”

            “ _However_ ……..?”  Hot Rod inquired, tilting his head curiously on the viewscreen.

            “It’s difficult living from bounty to bounty, just the three of us.   But _none of us_ are ready to come to Chaar or Cybertron and give up our independence just yet,” the blue-and-silver mech responded.   “If you’ll _allow_ us to………we’d like to help you out in your mission.   We’ve been on the frontier so long, we have some familiarity with the worlds and might be able to contact others with a lot less danger than you’ve been put through.   Though………..I would like to request being _paid_ , because as I said before, living from bounty to bounty is rather difficult for three mechs working together.”

            Hot Rod laughed warmly.   “ _Ah_ , I can **_totally_** understand that!  We can _definitely_ provide you some quality Energon and…………I think I might be able to convince Galvatron for some extra funds,” the flame-colored mech responded.  “He’s concerned about preventing Decepticons from joining Starscream—so he _really does_ want me to find them first.  So, if I can have your help on that—it’d be awesome, _really_!   But I want to find _Autobots_ , too—so…………I can trust you not to play favorites?”  He asked, softly.

            “Hey, **_I_** won’t let Des favor Decepticons over Autobots!”  Star Saber laughed, peeking into the viewscreen area to wave at Hot Rod.   “And……………given my reputation amongst the Autobots—I might have a little bit of an edge over **_you_**.” 

            “That’s _probably_ true!”  Hot Rod laughed.   “I really appreciate the help—if you could play my greeting message for anyone you encounter and then, come back to Chaar every so often for getting paid or refueling………….I think it’d work out great.”

            “Then, let us know when you return to Chaar—we’ll accompany you there and formalize our contract.  In the meantime, we’ll look for others for you,” Deszaras responded, nodding.

            The trio of the _Thunder Arrow_ sat down to start planning and evaluating worlds where they’ve known some Cybertronians to be at, as soon as communications had ended with Hot Rod.   It felt good to have a definite purpose in life again for all three of them!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I generally vary release my chapters and works and go in a pattern--next to be uploaded SHOULD HAVE BEEN a new "Star Voyager" episode................however the next episode will be rather epic and have a lot of moving parts to it and may be longer than a traditional "Star Voyager" episode, though I will TRY to keep to my "2 commercial breaks" (scene breaks) with it--though I'm tempted to say it'll be a double-length episode and go with 4 "commercial breaks" as an hour-long program might be. XD Maybe I could call it a "special episode"? ;)
> 
> Until then, have a short chapter of GalvaRod nonsense. *chuckle**


	5. Reaching for the Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More lost soldiers are found and.............a determination to return home so they can save more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's totally [not] Hoth. I swear it. XD

_ Chapter Five:  Reaching Towards the Light _

 

            “C’mon………..isn’t there _any way_ I can persuade you to knock down the price of this lounger?”  Flamewar purred, leaning over the counter and leaning her faceplate down close to Swindle’s.   “Just a _teeny-tiny_ bit?   _Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaseeeeeeeee_???”  She pouted, using all of her wiles to try and get her way.   She was doing her best to show off her frame and offer teasing glimpses of her best views.

            Swindle gave a devious grin, the Decepticon femme had been trying to get him to knock down the price of this luxurious couch-style lounger for the past twenty minutes.   She had taste—he’d give her _that_ …………..but her conning skills were _nowhere near_ his level.   Which made the Combaticon wonder just **_what_** she was doing to convince anyone to follow her lead in a potential uprising and make slurs against Hot Rod and the Autobots.   And he couldn’t really understand why anyone would be against poor Hot Rod—given everything that the young Autobot has put into making Chaar a good and habitable place for the Decepticons, _most_ Decepticons he knew actually _liked_ Hot Rod.

            If Onslaught hadn’t warned him and the other Hab Area administrative staff about her, he’d have gone nuts looking for the ones doing all the slurs and graffiti around the living area.   Because _Swindle liked Hot Rod_ —he appreciated _everything_ the flame-colored mech had done for them all.   And he knew the kid _didn’t_ deserve to be confronted with an anti-Autobot riot when he came back to Chaar.   It would shatter Hot Rod’s Spark if the Decepticons started getting hostile towards him……………..and Galvatron would, quite likely, destroy every single one of them for doing it—he _wouldn’t care_ who actually started it and would even probably know that Flamewar was behind it, _he just would not tolerate anyone targeting his precious treasures_.

            Swindle didn’t want to see any of that, either—because it would bring back the old hostilities and drive a schism in the Decepticons once more.   Like when Megatron was ousted by Starscream and then Galvatron appeared…………….as Rodimus Prime, the flame-colored mech had coached Galvatron on how to treat his troops better.   How to serve them, so that they would be happy to serve _the cause_ and _the empire_ in return.   Chaar and the Decepticons were in a far better place than in Megatron’s days and in the early days of Galvatron’s rule.

            “Look, girl…………it’s a nice gesture, but I’ve got a business to run.   Thanks to the Prime, we’ve been able to acquire things through more legal channels and I can market my wares a lot cheaper than ever before, I _ain’t_ gonna go cheaper than the marked price, ‘kay?”   Swindle responded to her, laughing warmly.  “It’ll probably be here when you get your next paycheck and you can afford it then, right?”  He chuckled.

            “ _So mean!_    I guess I’ll have to wait!”  Flamewar sighed, standing up straight and getting ready to go.

            “I could make a job change suggestion to you.  I know you’re on the jobless list now, doing the public service jobs……..but if I recall you from the old days, _before_ being sent to the frontier—you were a courier,” Swindle said, firmly.  He knew she was also an assassin, but he wasn’t going to say that aloud.  “That’s a job that we could use someone in—to run messages from the palace, to the Hab Area and the Entertainment Area and maybe the embassy sometimes, too.  Communiques and glyph messages are all well and good sometimes, but there _may_ be times when sensitive information might need to be given directly from one mech or femme to another—couriers were highly important back on Cybertron in the old days.   You could also do small delivery service, too…………you should consider it, it’d pay more money than the public service jobs.”

            “ _Eh_ , those jobs were _so boring_!”  Flamewar complained.

            “Jobs are jobs, girlie,” Swindle countered, laughing softly.

            “ _Meh_ ………..I’ll think about it,” she said, strolling out of the shop.

            Swindle sighed and sent a glyph to Onslaught.

 

**|Considering she practically tempted me into fragging—I’m guessing she’s using stuff like that to tempt Decepticons.   People can be weirdly persuaded when it comes to pleasures.|**

**|Thanks, Swindle.   I appreciate the update.|**

 

            Meanwhile, not too far away on Chaar—Galvatron had returned to the palace and was in the process of being _lectured_ by Hook and First Aid.  _Yelled at was more appropriate_.   He _didn’t_ appreciate it, but he knew they were both worried—even though he could not seem to convince them to _NOT_ worry about the powerful Emperor of the Decepticons.

            “It’s **_not you_** we’re worried about!   _It’s Hot Rod!_    What if by going to him you led Starscream to his location?”  First Aid screamed, pacing the throne room anxiously, hands to his head.

            “Or what if Starscream chose to target Chaar in your absence?   He clearly has spies here on Chaar……..” Hook added, his voice a lot more even and calmer than the Autobots’ CMO’s.

            “Starscream already knows he’s out there and the assassins had _actually_ killed him,” Galvatron growled, leaning back in his throne.  He was unable to get comfortable with the two lecturing him, but Cyclonus’ familiar field behind him kept him on a more even mood at the moment.

            “ ** _Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat_**?!”  First Aid screamed, even louder.   Hook gently pressed his EM field against the Autobot’s field to try and get the little medic calmed down.

            “ _Yes_.  It is _quite_ fascinating.   He is alive because _the Matrix_ brought him back to life,” Galvatron said, a big grin on his faceplate as he leaned forwards to gaze at the two medics.

            “Question:   _How_?”  Hook inquired, tilting his head curiously up at the Decepticon Leader while the smaller red-and-white Autobot just stared at Galvatron incredulously.

            “Wh, because of my Novablaze, _of course_!   Because of his **_God Spark_**!”  The Emperor of the Decepticons said, very proudly.   “The Matrix used the power of my Novablaze’s Spark to reignite my precious little Hot Rod’s!”

            “ _But_ ……………but the Matrix is on Earth.   How could………?”  First Aid murmured, puzzled, beginning to calm down as Hook’s familiar field pressed down on his, soothingly.

            “I don’t think it’s _distance_ —I think it’s _essence_.   **_Familiar essence_** ,” the Constructicon medic murmured, cupping his chin curiously.   “Perhaps akin to how Lord Galvatron channels the super plasma energy through his nova cannon via a subspace pocket……….?   Perhaps Novablaze’s Spark energy that is similar to the Matrix’s was able to channel it through a subspace pocket?”

            “ ** _I_** ……..I suppose in a weird, theoretical way…………it’s _possible_ ,” First Aid said, quietly.   “Lord Galvatron—Hot Rod’s okay though, isn’t he?   He didn’t seem to be suffering through this……..this death and rebirth?”  He asked, looking hopefully up at Galvatron.

            It pleased Galvatron to know at least _one Autobot_ was very seriously concerned about his Prime’s welfare.   “Oh, trust me……………the little Prime is _just fine_ —his Spark, his body, his sex drive and all,” the Decepticon Leader chuckled, grinning down at the two.

            Almost as if coordinated, both Hook and First Aid facepalmed themselves in unison—because, _of course_ , the two of them would frag themselves silly if they were in the presence of each other………… _no matter what kind of situation they were in_.

            “He _did_ have some kind of death experience, however……….but it appears as if this experience gave him the boost of confidence he truly needed to believe in himself even more.   _His fire_ has become reignited and **_that_** pleases me,” Galvatron explained carefully.   He was _not_ going to make a statement about Hot Rod one day becoming Rodimus Prime again—especially as the singular Autobot in the room might panic and wonder if something might happen to Optimus Prime!

            “I still believe he _needs_ to keep seeing Mindwipe for a while longer, to make sure he’s overcome all his psychological issues,” First Aid said, firmly.

            “I concur with this.   Even _if_ he’s gotten better, I would not want him to break himself again and make things worse—should one small incident trigger his self-hatred once more,” Hook added, nodding and patting First Aid’s shoulder consolingly.

            “Of course, _of course_ ………….I shall ensure he does so, even if I must plant him in a chair in front of our psychiatrist,” Galvatron chuckled, gazing down at the two medics and nodding.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            The world of Maer was a world of snow and ice.   The crew of the _Thunder Arrow_ made sure to prep their internal systems for extreme cold and to ensure their alt modes had the equipment to travel safely on ice and through snow.   There were several Cybertronian signals on the planet and from the old records that Deszaras had of any Decepticon advance units sent there…………..there was a small military unit of about twenty individuals.   The mission parameters were to take care of the government that was here and establish a base from which to deal with the other worlds in the system.

            “It looks like the unit’s been mostly decimated though,” Deadlock reported as they prepared to disembark.   “I’ve only got readings for four Cybertronian signals down there and one appears to be Autobot.”

            “I know you love your guns Deadlock, but they’re going to be _useless_ down there.   The extreme cold is going to freeze all the systems on them and they _won’t_ fire when you want them to,” Star Saber lectured, double-checking his V-Armour’s systems.   He was leaving the armour behind and going out only in his primary form, but he wanted to be able to summon the armour if he needed it—so he made sure it was ready for ice and snow.

            “ ** _Nnnngh_** ,” Deadlock muttered, placing his concussion rifles back on the racks along the wall with all the gun-type weapons on it.   “What about vibro-knives?   I would think swords might become brittle……..” he mumbled, looking at the wall of blades, instead.

            “Take a beam saber instead—you _may_ need to cut through something and the heat of the plasma coil should hold up in any cold,” Deszaras responded, pointing out a couple of quality vibro-knives and a long-handled beam saber.

            “But Des—are we really _supposed_ to be expecting trouble?”  Star Saber asked, softly.   Outside of his expansion armour, he was a little bit shorter than Deadlock and a lot shorter than Deszaras—however, he was just as powerful as Deszaras without his armour, _that much_ had been proven in combat in the past between the two of them.

            The former commander of the Decepticons’ Negare Strike Unit leaned down and kissed Star Saber on top of his helm, fondly.   “It will be fine, but we _can’t_ be careless,” he responded, smiling down at his former rival and, more recently, his ally and lover.   “And as we informed the young Hot Rod—not everyone will be happy, open and welcoming,” he added, gazing down at the both of them.

            “Got it,” Deadlock said, nodding politely.

            “Shouldn’t **_I_** go after the Autobot, though—just for relations and all?”  The blue-and-red Autobot legendary warrior asked, tilting his head up at the captain of the _Thunder Arrow_.

            “If we had an even amount of individuals here, I’d say it _would_ be diplomatic to do that.   However, the readouts of the Spark-signatures place the three Decepticons together and the Autobot is alone,” Deszaras answered, shaking his crowned helm lightly.   “Which makes sense, as the Decepticons would’ve belonged to the Lorka Strike Unit and likely would remain together even if the unit fell—that unit was tight with one another.   You and Deadlock are a good team in battle—so two against three will be better odds.   And _you_ can stop Deadlock from losing his cool and likely killing them all.”

            “ ** _Tch_** ,” Deadlock muttered.   But he knew it was true…………he had a bad habit of reacting and _reacting badly_ in a lot of situations.

            “I’m better equipped for combat in weather like this—so if the Autobot fights back, without listening to me first, _I’ll_ be in a better situation than either of you,” he said, firmly.   Then he did a final check of his own equipment—a final check on Star Saber and Deadlock’s equipment—and then dismissed them all.

            Deszaras transformed into his alt mode, a massive bird-monster kind of mech, to fly to the area where the Autobot’s Spark-signature was coming from.   The area was a wasteland of ice, snow blew and drifted—but it was clearly a grounded area that was now-long-frozen over ocean.   The statistics on this planet showed that it entered an ice age about two million years ago—which means the Autobot and Decepticon units who were assigned to this area had to endure an _epic weather change_ ……………it may even be what turned the tides of combat into death for the majority of the units on both sides.

            **_It came down to survival of the fittest, under the harshest of conditions._**

            Deszaras transformed into his primary mode and landed heavily on the frozen terrain, small cracks forming where he landed—but it was highly unlikely he’d break through the kilometers and kilometers of frozen ocean surface.   The signal was very close, but in this environment and to a warrior long left here………….they’d _know_ how to hide in the mass of white, no matter what colors their frame might be.   Or……………at least if **_he_** were in this situation, he’d be able to do so!

            “Young Autobot!   Please come out, I mean no harm and only want to speak to you!”  Deszaras called, loudly, his deep voice echoing within the snow covered area.

            A large pile of snow shifted and a red, grey and black form leapt out at him in a bestial mode, pinning him to the ground and shoving a vaguely feline-shaped head in Deszaras’ faceplate.  “ _Young, eh_?   I’m a few mil.   _And talk_?   Yeah, heard _that_ before—right before they tried to drain my tanks and butcher my frame,” the winged Puma-frame mech growled fiercely.

            “Nice alt mode— _perfect_ for survival in this environment,” the captain of the _Thunder Arrow_ chuckled, reaching up to grab the back of the winged Puma’s neck.

            All of the sudden, the frame shifted into a hovercraft and swept back away from Deszaras, to keep from being grabbed.

            _‘A triple-changer, then? **Nice** ,’_ Deszaras thought, flipping to his pedes quickly and taking a tense-but-open stance………..ready for anything.  “Seriously.  I am here to talk—since this planet is stuck in a climate change, you probably haven’t heard the news!   The war’s over!”  He called, loudly, to be heard over the howling winds and the mech’s hover-engines.

            “ _Yeah, right_ …………tell me another one, gramps!”  The red-and-black colored mech snarled, transforming again into a drill tank.

            _‘Oh, **more** than that.   Like Sixshot—a mutated T-Cog!’_ The old Decepticon warrior thought.   “It’s true.  Megatron is gone and there’s a new leader of the Decepticons— _Galvatron_!   He’s forged a ceasefire contract with the Autobots through their previous leader, Rodimus Prime—who is also _his lover_!”   He called, hoping that by making the statement of a relationship between two faction leaders, maybe this mech would stand down.

            “ ** _Previous_**!   You just said _previous_!   I don’t like when statements contradict themselves like that!”  The mech snarled, running his drill and revving his engine like he was going to charge to bore a hole right through Deszaras’ frame.

            “Because he’s _retired_ from leadership and handed it back to Optimus Prime!   Rodimus was a leader made to forge peace—he now lives with Galvatron on the Decepticons’ new homeworld of Chaar, under his original name of Hot Rod!”  Deszaras yelled, getting ready to transform in an instant and fly away if he needed to.   “Come back to my ship with me—all the details can be explained!   We have a video message from Hot Rod that we were asked to show any lost soldiers that we found!”

            “The Decepticons _aren’t_ on Cybertron?   Then _who’s_ on Cybertron?!   Did they _destroy_ it?!”  The red-and-black mech yelled, changing back to his winged Puma form and crouched dangerously.

            “The _Autobots_ are on Cybertron!   And they’re members of the _Galactic Alliance_!”  The old warrior yelled back.   “It’s _too complicated_ to be shouting all this back and forth across the ice!   Come on—let’s go back to the _Thunder Arrow_!   We can warm up, I can give you some Energon and everything can be explained properly!   I _swear_ we won’t hurt you!”   He called.

            “ ** _We_**?!   Who’s _‘we’_?!”  The mech snarled, looking ready to spring at any moment.

            “My allies—Star Saber and a mech who once served under me, Deadlock!”   Deszaras answered.

            “ _Star Saber_?   You surely don’t mean **_that_** Star Saber, do you?!”  The Puma-form mech yelled, raising his head and his stance becoming less antagonistic.

            “ _I do!_    You can meet him if you come back to the ship with me!”  The blue-and-silver mech responded, loudly.

            The mech finally transformed into his primary mode—he was a bit stocky and a little shorter than Deszaras.   He held up his servos and walked slowly across the iced ocean, to which Deszaras slowly did the same, until they were standing just a few feet apart from one another.

            “It’s cold.   It’s lonely.  I’ve been here _so long_ ,” the mech said, tiredly.  “My name’s Quickswitch,” he added, dipping his head politely.  “I apologize for the antagonistic attitude, but……………when the freeze set in, the remaining Cybertronians on both sides became………….. _cannibalistic_.   It got to a point where you _couldn’t_ trust anyone— ** _no one at all_**.  Even someone pretending to show interest in you one day, would lay down with you for a heated night of fragging…………..they would try to scavenge your still-alive frame for fuel and parts the next morning.”

            “I understand.   The war…………..and the aftermath of being left on the frontier………..it took away a lot of our civilization and our decency,” the blue-and-silver mech responded, placing a gentle hand on Quickswitch’s shoulder—trying not to notice the younger mech’s flinching.  “My name is Deszaras—I was formerly the commander of the Negare Strike Unit sent to Apore.   Star Saber and I fought one another for centuries on end before we lost most all of our units and decided it was better to live together and survive together than to live alone.”

            “ _Heh_.   That sounds like a faerie tale,” Quickswitch laughed.  “Well, let’s go to your ship.  It’ll be nice to be warm for a change……………I’ll probably catch a hefty virus, but I’ll love being warm.”

            Deszaras led Quickswitch back to the _Thunder Arrow_ to find that Star Saber and Deadlock were already back with the trio of Decepticons they were sent out to find………….a small portion of the unit left behind, their names were Windsweeper, Ruckus and Crankcase—they worked together on everything and stayed together when the cold claimed all else around them.   The three of them had their faceplates staring at a datapad and Deszaras could hear Hot Rod’s voice in the familiar message.

            “ _Captain_!   Is all of this really true?!”  One of the three, a yellow-and-purple mech that Deszaras believed was named Ruckus, asked as he looked over at the tall blue-and-silver mech.   “The war’s……….. _kinda_ ……….over?   But Starscream is still out there………….. ** _ugh_**.”

            Quickswitch was rather surprised at the excitement and sense of relief in the tone of the Decepticon’s vocalizer.   It had him curious to see what was on the datapad, too.   So he walked over and one of the other three mechs handed the datapad to him—playing Hot Rod’s message from the beginning.

            “I spoke with young Hot Rod and he feels like a very honest and trustworthy mech.   The fact he had both Decepticons and Autobots travelling with him reassures me he’s being truthful and………..well, Saber and Deadlock saw for themselves how Galvatron came to his defense and how protective he was,” Deszaras answered, carefully watching Quickswitch as the Autobot played the message on the datapad.   “As for Starscream—we _all_ knew he was an overly ambitious mech……….it seems time has only sharpened his hatred of Megatron and all of that.   Striking out on his own should really be no surprise if he’s found a partner willing to back him up financially and the like.”

            “ _’Bout this Galvatron_ , though—what’s **_his_** deal?”  Quickswitch said, guardedly, as he handed the datapad to Deadlock.

            Star Saber laughed softly.  “Trust me……..I _don’t_ think he’s going to hurt any of you, Autobot or Decepticon.  It felt as if his interests were focused only on a few things and Hot Rod seems to know how to handle his anger and rage.   Plus…………the two of them—they’ve got _sparklings_ that they forged together………..what does **_that_** say?”  The old Autobot hero chuckled.

            “ _Sparklings_?   You mean they have **_newmechs_** forged from their own frames?”  Quickswitch gasped, staring at Star Saber in utter shock.   “How in the pit did they do _that_?!”   He cried.

            “We didn’t hear all the details, but it _really is_ the real deal,” Deadlock responded, coolly.   “I met their eldest—an energetic youngling with the designation of Novablaze.   It appears as if their youngest is still very small, she was being kept in a special carrying cloth around Hot Rod’s chest.”

            “Wait……..” Ruckus said, looking at his compatriots and then at the crew of the _Thunder Arrow_ and Quickswitch.   “If their youngest is still kind of a _‘newborn’_ —why’s this Hot Rod out doing such dangerous things?   And isn’t Lord Galvatron worried?”   He asked, softly.

            “He seemed to trust and believe in Hot Rod,” Deadlock said, his deep voice even and neutral.   “And as Hot Rod said in this message—you can choose to live on Chaar or Cybertron.   They are making a Decepticon neutral city on Cybertron and Chaar has the Autobot embassy.”

            “Heh, it sounds pretty _awesome_ ,” Crankcase chuckled.

            “I agree…………I’m really curious to see this Chaar place, because the only Chaar I knew about was a desolate wasteland of a world!”  Windsweeper laughed.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            Arcee and Slipstream were with Sixshot, meeting a mech named Doubledealer.   While he wore a Decepticon brand, he said he really didn’t feel much allegiance to either side anymore.   He’d actually made a home and a business on the world he got stuck on—a place called Feilan.   Which was a world that suffered a lot from Autobot and Decepticon conflict over the years.   And really had only begun to recover from it in the last few centuries.

            “There’s still a _long_ way to go,” Doubledealer responded, showing them a map of the area they were located in on the planet and explained that he’d been part of the organic species’ (a feathered lizard-like people) ruling council in this area.   “My staff and I have been working hard with the Feilans to get things back on track.   We Cybertronians screwed up pretty badly out here on the frontier and pretty much everywhere we were at.”

            “But that is why Hot Rod very much works for peace,” Slipsteam said, he voice soft and gentle.

            “And it’s _definitely_ appreciated.   Once we idiot Cybertronians can stop screwing up the universe, the better,” the former Decepticon laughed warmly.   “Starscream out on his own with his own growing army disturbs me, though.   _Never liked that mech_.   The Robo-Smasher really warped him………far more than it warped any other mech or femme that Megatron used it on, there had to be something buried deep in his program that the Robo-Smasher brought to the surface.”

            “Even if you _don’t_ want to come with us—would you keep a copy of this message and pass it along to any others you might know of in this system, or might encounter somehow?”  Sixshot asked, handing a simple datapad to the purple-and-black former Decepticon.

            “I noticed your staff don’t really talk all that much,” Arcee commented, looking over to see one of the Mini-Cons dusting some knickknacks on a display shelf on the far wall.   “They _are_ Cybertronians, right?”

            “ _Mmmm_.   They were one of the rarities produced by Vector Sigma—their coding is adaptable and not set to military hardware or consumer goods coding, as the Quintessons label us,” Doubledealer said, aiming a fond smile in Storm Cloud’s direction when the Mini-Con turned to look at them curiously.  “There aren’t many and they are often made in pairings or groupings—you can tell by the similarity of their alt modes, their color schemes and their frame designs.   They have their own language, really—it’s a base primitive warbling.   We used to use it in the past to talk when we didn’t want the Quintessons to know what we were talking about.”

            “So…………. _you_ know about the Quintessons?”   Sixshot asked, curiously.

            “I am one of the third or fourth generation models, which is technically first or second out of Vector Sigma,” the former Decepticon chuckled.   “Not really enough to be called a _‘Decepticon’_ , but basically with the military hardware coding.  I took on the brand to get off Cybertron and really to hunt the Quints down……….by the time Megatron came about and there were actually _‘Decepticons’_ , the Quintessons were practically forgotten—but a few of us knew they were still out there, waiting and biding their time.   Lots of us early Vector Sigma models had an underlying dislike for the Quints.”

            “Do you know if there are many Cybertronians left here on Feilan?”  Slipstream asked, tilting her head curiously.

            “There’s a few,” Doubledealer chuckled.  “I’ve offered amnesty to any who want to come in to the _‘civilized’_ areas—and want to take on jobs and live a normal life.   Not many takers yet, but I think part of it still has to do with brands and the war.  Perhaps this Hot Rod’s message will change their minds…….I’ll find a way to broadcast it.  Is there a way to contact anyone on Chaar, to get a message to Hot Rod if we have any takers on his offer?”   He asked, curiously.

            “I know most Decepticons have Soundwave’s PCC—do you?”  Sixshot asked.

            “I _probably_ still do, let me check,” the former Decepticon murmured, lowering his head a moment and shuttering his optics as he searched his internal memories.   “Yes, it looks like I do.   Should I send a short glyph to Soundwave then?”

            “That would work.  Then we’d find a way to establish a direct communique link and discuss sending out a ship to come and fetch anyone wanting to go to Chaar or Cybertron,” the blue-and-white Decepticon warrior laughed.

            “We have some communications with other planets in this system—I’ll find a way to get this message broadcast to more of them,” Doubledealer answered.   “Thank you for coming to see me and for passing this along.   I think peace might be tough, especially with Starscream out there still driving a wedge in our race and culture—but it looks like the Autobots and Decepticons are taking good steps towards making it work.”

            The two femmes and the mech rose from their seats and said a polite farewell to the former Decepticon and his Mini-Con staff.   They headed back to Sky Lynx and found Hot Rod and Springer had already returned with some new people—a trio of Autobots with construction vehicle alt modes named Scoop, Quickmix and Landfill.

            “ _That’s great_ …………the more people we can get to relay my message out here on the frontier, the better,” Hot Rod responded, grinning at the three returning friends.   “We got a message from Deszaras that they’ve found a few people as well.”

            “This is actually working out pretty well.   Hot Rod………..you know, thanks for letting us come along,” Arcee said as she walked over to Springer and slid an arm through one of his, twining servos.   “We’re still _really sorry_ we treated you so badly.”

            “We **_really are_** , Roddy,” Springer added.

            “ _Yeah_.   Deep down, I know………….I **_know_** it’s just going to take time.   It hasn’t even been a decade since the accords came about and we’re trying to conquer millions of years of war,” the flame-colored mech sighed, swiveling on his pedes with Stormbreaker’s head on his shoulder………he was trying to soothe her into a nap-cycle.   “ _We’ll get there_.   We’ve made good steps towards the goal.   _Galvatron’s_ on our side and that means a lot.”

            “Is he really?”  Slipstream asked, tilting her head curiously.

            “ _Heh_ ………..yeah, I know how he comes off.   And _he is a warrior_ more than anything.   _But_ …….he’s made a promise not to break the accords and _Galvatron’s promises_ are eternal as long as they don’t get compromised on our end, you know?  **_He_** won’t be the one to break the accords,” Hot Rod chuckled, thinking fondly of Galvatron and all his oddities—but his very strong sense of honor and his vision of what he wants most in this universe.   “Speaking of…………I think we’d better get home before I start getting angry orders to return home.  We’ll discuss things more with Deszaras and his crew as well………..Soundwave, send the _Thunder Arrow_ some rendezvous coordinates and let them know we’re headed back to Chaar for a rest and recovery period.”

            “Understood, Prime,” Soundwave responded.   “ _Prime_ —I understand that this would only apply to Decepticons, but I can send out a mass glyph message to all Decepticons in this area.  I cannot promise they’ll actually pass a message along to the Autobots they may know or be stranded with on a world, but I can **_ask_** if they would.   Along with Doubledealer trying to get your video message out, perhaps the messages will spread and we will get both Autobots and Decepticons asking for help.”

            “Yeah………… ** _that_** sounds like a good idea, Soundwave.  Do you mind?”  Hot Rod asked, looking at the Decepticons’ Communications Officer, who merely shook his head in a gesture that meant he’d do it right away because he really didn’t mind doing it.   “Sky Lynx, set course to the rendezvous coordinates.”

            “Right away, Hot Rod,” Sky Lynx said, turning about in space and locking onto a new course.

            Soundwave sent his mass glyph message out to all Decepticon frequencies in the nearest two planetary systems right before Sky Lynx did a subspace jump to the coordinates.   When they met up with the _Thunder Arrow_ , Deszaras greeted him via a video communique.

            “I don’t know **_what_** you just did, Hot Rod…………….but look at this,” the old Decepticon warrior laughed, sending over a visual of a map of the three star systems and there were hundreds of blinking lights on the planets on the map.

            Hot Rod stared at the map.   Even if those were _only Decepticon responses_ to Soundwave’s mass glyph message…………..there were **_so many_**.   He swallowed a gulp of air, just to calm his nerves.   He gazed at the blinking lights on the map and turned towards Soundwave.

            “Can you send out _another_ message?   Can you tell them that we will come find them all soon?”  He asked of the Communications Officer in a quiet voice.   “I think we might need a small fleet of ships……..” he murmured, softly.

            Soundwave gave a soft chuckle and nodded, sending out the following glyph message.

 

**|Wait for us, we will return with more ships to find all of you.|**

 

            “Captain Deszaras—let’s head back to Chaar to refuel and refurbish a few ships………..then come back out here to find those lost soldiers,” Hot Rod said to the old Decepticon warrior on the vid screen.

            “Understood, Hot Rod,” Deszaras answered with a grin.

            The two ships…………the Autobot Sky Lynx and Deszaras’ _Thunder Arrow_ ……….set course for Chaar and headed home to prepare for more rescuing of their lost brethren out on the frontier.   _They’d be back soon………….. **to find them all**_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a somewhat abrupt ending, but I literally could've done several more chapters of landing on planets and finding new Transformers. XD
> 
> Until the next GalvaRod 'fic everyone, happy holidays! :D


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